LINCOLN  ROOM 

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LIBRARY 


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the  Class  of  1901 

founded  by 

HARLAN  HOYT  HORNER 

and 

HENRIETTA  CALHOUN  HORNER 


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in  2012  with  funding  from 

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A  First  National  Picture.  The  Dramatic  Life  of 

GEORGE  BILLINGS  AS  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 


Abraham  Lincoln. 


THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF 

Abraham  Lincoln 


BY 

A.  M.  R.  WRIGHT 


ILLUSTRATED  WITH    SCENES 

FROM  THE  PHOTOPLAY 

A  FIRST  NATIONAL  PICTURE 

PRESENTED  BY  AL.  AND  RAY  ROCKETT 


GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS  NEW     YORK 

Made  ui  the  United  States  oi  Amenta 


Copyright,  1925,  by 
GROSSET  &  DUNLAP 


'For  those  who  like  this  kind  of  a  book, 
This  is  the  kind  of  a  book  they  will  like.' 
Abraham  Lincoln. 


FOREWORD 

The  making  of  the  life  and  events  of  Abraham 
Lincoln  into  a  motion  picture  was  in  no  sense  a  for- 
tuitous circumstance — rather  was  it  a  deliberate  at- 
tempt to  express  the  matchless  career  of  our  greatest 
world  figure  in  terms  of  animated  pictures  to  the  end 
that  it  might  be  established  beyond  argument  that  an 
historical  subject  could  be  picturized  in  a  manner  true 
to  fact  and  yet  be  made  to  carry  with  it  all  the  elements 
that  go  to  make  a  great  photo-drama  entertaining. 
Without  entertainment  value  no  picture  could  be  pos- 
sible, for  the  picture-going  public  pay  to  be  entertained 
and  it  is  the  box-office  returns  that  enable  the  producer 
to  pay  for  his  picture  and  thus  encourage  him  to  make 
other  and  better  ones. 

Up  to  the  time  "Abraham  Lincoln"  was  filmed  no 
great  American  life  in  its  entirety  had  been  translated 
into  motion  pictures  and  dire  prophecies  of  failure 
were  made  for  those  who  might  attempt  such  an  en- 
terprise; the  successful  picturization  of  the  Lincoln 
subject,  therefore,  marks  an  epoch  in  cinema  history 
and  will  give  heart  to  those  producers  who  have  long 
believed  that  in  history  there  lay  an  inexhaustible  mine 
of  motion  picture  wealth.  The  filming  of  the  life  of 
Lincoln  was  peculiarly  difficult  for  many  reasons. 
There  was  the  threat  of  sectional  intolerance;  the  al- 
most insurmountable  obstacle  in  the  way  of  finding  a 

vii 


viii  FOREWORD 

player  capable  physically,  spiritually  and  temperament- 
ally of  interpreting  the  role  satisfactorily  to  the  Amer- 
ican people ;  the  tremendous  scope  of  the  subject  which 
might  easily  be  handled  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  the 
picture  either  hopelessly  long,  or  by  ignorant  elimina- 
tion omit  events  absolutely  essential  to  the  understand- 
ing of  the  subject.  The  great  problem,  therefore,  after 
the  selection  of  a  player  for  Lincoln's  part,  was  the 
choice  of  essentials,  the  handling  of  the  materials  in  a 
way  to  avoid  offense  and  eternal  vigilance  against  that 
elusive  thing  known  to  film-crafters  as  "hokum."  An 
authoritative  human  document  taken  from  the  pages 
of  American  history  and  made  to  live  on  the  screen 
was  the  objective,  but  the  whole  must  be  a  moving 
picture  entertainment. 

The  completed  film  shows  how  it  was  done,  how 
every  obstacle  was  overcome  and  explains  why  the 
people  of  both  the  North  and  the  South  have  found 
in  the  picture  a  new  birth  of  inspiration  and  a  new 
urge  toward  patriotism  and  brotherhood  and  have  wel- 
comed it  as  a  great  influence  toward  finally  binding 
up  the  wounds  of  war. 

An  instance  of  the  thoroughness  of  our  research  is 
indicated  by  the  finding  in  Delphos,  a  little  town  way 
out  in  western  Kansas,  of  a  lady  who  in  childhood 
was  Grace  Bedell,  of  Westfield,  New  York.  It  was 
a  letter  written  by  their  little  girl  at  the  age  of  eleven 
to  President-elect  Lincoln  which  induced  him  to  grow 
a  beard. 

We  also  found  at  Long  Beach,  California,  a  Mr. 
Paris  Henderson  at  whose  childhood  home  in  Illinois 
Abraham  Lincoln  used  to  stop  frequently  as  he  rode 


FOREWORD  ix 

the  circuit  in  the  old  eighth  Judicial  District  practicing 
law  in  the  county  seat  towns.  Mr.  Henderson  was 
able  to  tell  a  story  about  the  first  and  only  time  Lin- 
coln ever  taught  a  Sunday  School  class. 

In  Los  Angeles,  we  found  Mrs.  Wyncoop,  who,  as 
Helen  Truman,  was  a  member  of  the  cast  of  "Our 
American  Cousin"  playing  at  Ford's  Theater  the 
night  of  President  Lincoln's  assassination.  From  her 
we  secured  a  first-hand  description  of  that  terrible 
tragedy. 

In  Hollywood,  we  found  Senator  Cornelius  Cole, 
who  recently  died  at  the  age  of  102  years,  a  lifelong 
friend  of  Lincoln  and  his  daily  associate  during  Lin- 
coln's life  in  Washington.  In  a  remarkable  interview 
Senator  Cole  gave  unpublished  details  of  Lincoln's  life 
and  in  addition  he  advised  us  on  all  disputed  historical 
points,  thus  enabling  us  to  produce  in  pictures  an 
absolutely  authentic  historical  document.  Senator  Cole 
also  rode  on  the  train  with  President  Lincoln  from 
Washington  to  Gettysburg  and  sat  on  the  platform 
when  Lincoln  delivered  the  Gettysburg  Address. 

I  have  said  that  the  picture  "Abraham  Lincoln" 
constitutes  a  deliberate  attempt  to  prove  that  history 
makes  good  show  stuff  for  the  films  and  I  am  en- 
couraged to  add  that  real  life  as  it  has  been  lived  is 
quite  as  entertaining  as  fiction  and  that  even  the  life 
of  an  immortal  with  its  loves  and  sufferings,  its  pov- 
erty and  its  greatness,  its  joys  and  its  tragedies,  and 
even  its  intimate  and  sacred  moments  may  be  handled 
with  so  delicate  a  touch  as  to  invest  every  scene  and 
even  the  entire  subject  with  an  enchantment  that  only 
truth  has  the  magic  to  impart.    Of  course,  fiction  has 


x  FOREWORD 

never  yet  produced  a  Lincoln,  or  ever  will,  so  our 
present  debt  is  to  history  and  to  the  wonderful  creation 
of  science  called  the  cinema,  which  enables  us  to  sit 
at  ease  amid  pleasant  and  appropriate  surroundings 
and  in  one  short  evening  have  unfolded  before  our  en- 
chanted vision  the  entire  life  and  events  of  one  of  the 
world's  greatest  figures  so  that  we  may  understand  a 
subject  that  would  require  years  of  individual  research 
to  achieve. 

Professor  Hitchens  of  Ansco  Film  Laboratory  is 
working  on  a  film  of  this  picture  that  is  expected  and 
hoped  to  last  forever.  With  the  approbation  of  the 
authorities  it  is  to  be  placed  in  the  Smithsonian  Insti- 
tute at  Washington,  D.  C,  and  to  be  opened  on  the 
three  hundredth  anniversary  of  Lincoln's  birth. 

A.  L.  Rockett. 
New  York  City. 


CONTENTS 


Part  I: 

CHAPTER 

I 

II 

III 

IV 

V 

VI 

VII 


His  Childhood 


A  Blizzard 

Lincoln's  "Folks"         ..... 
Log  Cabin  Days         ..... 

Emigrating 

Hard  Times 

A  Stepmother 36 

School  Days 40 


PAGE 

3 
8 

14 
20 
26 


Part  II:  Young  Manhood 


VIII  Jack-of-All-Trades       .        . 

IX  The  Railsplitter  . 

X  The  Trip  to  New  Orleans 

XI  The  Country  Storekeeper   . 

XII  Legislature  and  War 

XIII  Studying  Law 

XIV  Ann  Rutledge      . 


5i 
61 
66 
76 
86 

95 
109 


Part  III:  Family  Life  and  Politics 

XV     Campaigning 129 

XVI  A.  Lincoln,  Attorney-at-Law    .        .        .135 

XVII     Mary  Todd 143 

XVIII     Family  Life 160 

XIX  Politics  and  Congress         .        .        .        .170 

XX     The  "Home  Folks" 182 

xi 


xii  CONTENTS 

Part  IV:  The  "Slavery  Question" 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXI  Lincoln  Opens  Fire  on  Slavery  .        .189 

XXII  The  Great  Lincoln-Douglas  Debates  .  207 

XXIII  Nominated  for  Presidency  .        .        .  227 

XXIV  Election  Day 242 

XXV  War  Clouds          .        .        .        .        .,  248 

Part  V:  Civil  War 

XXVI  Lincoln  Goes  to  Washington      .        .  255 

XXVII  War! 270 

XXVIII  Emancipation         .......  289 

XXIX  Lincoln  and  His  Generals  .        .;       .  299 


Part  VI:  War  Times 

XXX     The  War  Grinds  On  ....  309 

XXXI     Two  Boys  in  the  White  House  .        .  326 

XXXII     The  Sleeping  Sentinel  and  Others      .-  338 

XXXIII  Richmond  Falls    ......  355 

XXXIV  The  Surrender      ......  361 


Part  VII:  The  Curtain  Falls 

XXXV  Lincoln's  Last  Day       . 

XXXVI  The  Assassination 

XXXVII  The  Capture  of  Booth 

XXXVIII  Extent  of  the  Plot       . 

XXXIX  Back  to  Springfield 


38i 
390 
401 
409 
417 


PART   I 

His  Childhood 

"The  Lord  must  love  the  Common  People 
That's  why  he  made  so  many  of  them." 


THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF 
ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 


CHAPTER  I 

A   BLIZZARD 

A  furious  blizzard  went  roaring  through  dense  Ken- 
tucky forests  in  the  bitter  February  of  the  year  1809. 

The  mad  gale  drove  stinging  snow  into  high  drifts, 
and  lashed  the  bare  and  ice-bound  trees  with  such  vehe- 
mence that  they  moaned  and  crashed  and  tossed  in 
agony,  while  many  a  giant  oak  went  thundering  to  the 
ground. 

The  peril  of  that  wind-torn  wilderness,  its  racing 
wind,  cutting  sleet  and  trackless  drifts  forbade  any 
living  creature  to  venture  abroad.  Yet  there  now  ap- 
peared dimly  through  veils  of  flying  snow  the  bent  and 
stumbling  figure  of  a  man. 

The  violence  of  the  wild  storm's  onslaught  blinded 
him  and  beat  him  down,  time  and  again,  upon  his  knees 
in  waist-deep  drifts;  the  whirling  snow  obliterated 
every  landmark  that  might  guide  him,  yet  valiantly  he 
struggled  on.  Here  was  a  lone  frontiersman  caught 
away  from  home  when  the  storm  broke  with  the  sudden 
fury  that  swept  him  from  his  trail  to  flounder  blindly, 
battling  with  the  fiercest  snowstorm  Kentucky  had  ever 
known. 


4         THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

Buffeted  by  the  sweeping  gale,  he  labored  on  for 
hours  until,  numb  at  last,  he  began  to  feel  that  false 
warmth  and  overwhelming  sleepiness  that  lures  lost 
travelers  to  cease  struggling  through  snow  and  to  sink 
down  to  sleep  and  death. 

Collapse  had  nearly  claimed  him  when  the  frontiers- 
man tripped  and  pitched  over  an  icy  bank,  plunging 
headlong  into  a  ravine  below.  This  jar  roused  him. 
He  staggered  to  his  feet  and  peered  about. 

There  at  his  feet,  blown  bare  of  snow  by  eddying 
winds,  lay  a  familiar  logged-in  spring  among  the  rocks. 
With  joy  he  recognized  this  as  the  spring  upon  the 
Lincoln  farm.  With  this  landmark  to  guide  him  he 
sheltered  his  eyes  with  both  hands  and,  squinting 
through  the  storm,  made  out  a  cabin  nearby,  half 
buried  in  the  drifts.  Rallying  his  waning  strength,  he 
fought  his  way,  head  down,  to  the  snow-jammed  door 
and  pounded.  No  answer  greeted  him.  With  savage, 
icy  blows  the  tempest  shook  the  lonely  cabin  fiercely 
and  threatened  at  any  moment  to  demolish  its  huge  out- 
side chimney  that  rocked  and  groaned  in  the  gale.  No 
smoke  curled  up  this  chimney,  which,  built  like  some 
crude  buzzard's  nest  of  sticks  daubed  together,  was  ill 
constructed  to  withstand  such  wind.  No  flicker  of  light 
gleamed  from  the  chinked  log  walls  to  encourage  the 
lost  traveler.  He  thrust  his  great  bulk  desperately 
against  the  sagging  door  and  burst  it  open. 

Within,  the  cabin  was  dark,  silent  and  so  cold  that 
at  first  the  wanderer  thought  it  deserted.  Then  a  thin 
wail  from  one  corner  assured  him  of  a  baby's  presence 
and  he  groped  his  way  to  the  bedside.  Stooping  over 
the  woman  who  lay  upon  it,  he  said : 


A  BLIZZARD  5 

"Mrs.  Lincoln,  this  is  your  neighbor,  Isom  Enlow. 
I  was  lost  in  the  storm  and  I'm  mighty  glad  to  find 
your  place." 

Mrs.  Lincoln's  answer  was  only  a  weak  whisper. 
"Please  help,  I  am  very  ill  and  I  am  afraid  my  baby 
is  dead." 

The  good  man  tossed  aside  his  snow-encrusted  coon- 
skin  cap,  drew  off  his  frozen  fur  gloves,  then  gently 
turned  down  the  deerskins  that  formed  the  bedclothes. 
The  tiny  form  of  a  little  two-year-old  girl  stirred  at 
his  touch.  She  looked  up  and  blinked  at  him  and  saw 
the  broad  snow-powdered  shoulders  of  a  stocky  middle- 
aged  man.  In  spite  of  the  fearsome  aspect  of  his 
shaggy  eyebrows,  whitened  and  frozen,  and  his  great 
beard  matted  with  fine  icicles,  she  recognized  the  kindli- 
ness in  his  face,  stopped  whimpering  and  smiled. 

"Your  little  gal  is  all  right,"  he  said  heartily. 

"But  I  have  a  baby  here  too,  a  boy,  born  this 
morning." 

Horrified  at  this,  Enlow's  fingers  sought  out  the 
baby  only  to  find  it  so  cold  that  he  realized  if  a  fire 
could  save  it,  a  blaze  must  be  kindled  within  the  next 
few  minutes.  Seizing  an  ax  he  sprang  out  into  the 
storm  to  cut  wood  and  speedily  had  logs  roaring  on  the 
hearth  that  had  been  cold  before  with  snow  that  had 
blown  down  the  wide-mouthed  chimney  and  sifted  out 
upon  the  floor.  As  he  hurriedly  piled  logs  and  poked 
them  to  brighter  flame  he  asked,  "Mrs.  Lincoln,  is  your 
husband  out  in  this  storm?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered  feebly.  "Tom  went  to  the 
settlement  for  supplies  several  days  ago.  I  suppose  he 
is  delayed  by  this  fearful  blizzard.    I  have  kept  Sarah 


6        THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

in  bed  with  me  for  warmth,  and  for  two  days  now 
neither  of  us  has  had  a  mouthful  to  eat."  Enlow 
turned  at  once  to  prepare  food  but  found  not  a  crumb 
in  the  house. 

Realizing  that  something  must  be  fed  the  starving 
family  at  once,  Enlow  took  the  horn  of  wild  turkey 
grease  that  he  carried  for  use  on  his  rifle,  and  melting 
this  grease  in  water  heated  on  the  hearth  he  concocted 
a  kind  of  bitter  broth  for  Mrs.  Lincoln  and  Sarah. 

Like  every  other  country  man,  Enlow  was  accus- 
tomed to  handling  little  new-born  animals  and  he  man- 
aged very  well  now  with  a  new-born  baby.  Finally, 
rolling  it  deftly  in  a  bundle  and  holding  it  to  the  blaze, 
he  brought  heat  into  the  half-frozen  little  body,  and 
sustained  its  life  by  dipping  a  string  in  the  hot  grease 
and  holding  this  for  its  stiff  little  lips  to  suck. 

Hours  later  when  Enlow  was  preparing  to  brave  the 
storm  once  more  to  get  supplies  and  help,  neighbor 
Gallaher  and  his  wife,  knowing  a  Lincoln  baby  was 
expected,  arrived  with  plenty  of  food,  herbs,  bedcloth- 
ing,  medicine  and  comforts  for  the  mother  and  infant. 

By  the  time  Thomas  Lincoln  reached  home,  worn  by 
anxiety  and  his  struggle  with  the  storm,  he  found  the 
one  room  of  the  cabin  bright  and  warm  with  firelight 
and  savory  with  food  cooking  in  the  fireplace  under 
Mrs.  Gallaher's  capable  hands,  while  mother  and  babies 
had  been  made  snug  by  the  good  neighbors  who  had 
come  in  the  very  nick  of  time.  Ushered  heroically  into 
life  in  the  teeth  of  a  storm,  the  baby  boy  lay  blinking 
in  the  firelight,  and  no  one  in  that  cabin  room  dreamed 
of  the  life  of  storm  and  heroism  yet  before  him. 

"He's  a  homely  little  cuss!"  remarked  his  father. 


A  BLIZZARD  7 

"He  owes  his  life  to  Mr.  Enlow,"  declared  the 
mother  gratefully.  "Let  us  name  him  Abraham  after 
Mr.  Enlow's  son  who  died." 

And  thus  on  February  12th  was  born  and  named 
Abraham  Lincoln,  whose  life,  nearly  snuffed  out  be- 
fore it  well  began,  was  spared  his  country  by  a  very 
narrow  margin. 

Austen  Gallaher  himself,  son  of  the  kindly  neigh- 
bors, and  playmate  of  Abraham's  from  his  babyhood 
until  the  day  the  Lincolns  left  Kentucky,  years  after- 
ward told  and  retold  this,  the  true  story  of  the  birth  of 
Abraham  Lincoln,  to  Mr.  Gore,  the  Hodgenville,  Ken- 
tucky, newspaper  man,  who  first  put  it  into  print.  It 
was  near  this  same  Hodgenville,  in  Hardin  Co.,  on  the 
Big  South  Fork  of  Nolen  Creek  that  the  cabin  stood 
where  Abraham  Lincoln  was  born. 


CHAPTER  II 


Lincoln's  "folks" 


It  happened  that  though  named  for  Enlow's  son,  the 
baby  was  the  fifth  Abraham  in  the  Lincoln  family. 
Though  born  in  the  humblest  hut  and  in  bitter  poverty, 
Abraham  Lincoln  came  of  sound  English  stock,  of  the 
seventh  generation  in  America,  and  his  forefathers  had 
proved  themselves  men  of  worth. 

The  father  of  the  first  Lincoln  to  come  to  America 
was  Edward  Lincoln,  gentleman,  of  Norfolk,  England, 
a  county  which  adjoins  Lincolnshire,  whence  perhaps 
the  family  originally  derived  its  name. 

It  was  his  son  Samuel  who  was  first  of  the  name  to 
sail  adventurously  for  the  new  country.  The  pioneer 
spirit,  which  prompted  Samuel  to  cross  the  seas  in  1637 
to  found  a  new  home  in  a  new  land,  urged  on  other 
Lincolns  through  generations  to  push  further  and 
further  west  across  new  country  until  172  years  after- 
ward young  Abraham  was  born  to  spend  his  youth  at 
the  very  outposts  of  the  frontier. 

Samuel  Lincoln  first  settled  in  Salem  and  later  moved 
to  Hingham,  Massachusetts,  a  far  cry  in  those  days 
from  the  wilds  of  Kentucky  and  Illinois.  Other  Lin- 
colns settled  in  Bucks  County,  Pa.  A  Josiah  Lincoln 
fought  in  the  Revolution,  and  after  this  war  we  find 
Abraham  Lincoln,  grandfather  of  the  President,  settled 
and  well-to-do  in  Rockingham  County,  Virginia.  This 
Abraham  Lincoln  through  his  friendship  with  Daniel 

8 


LINCOLN'S  "FOLKS"  9 

Boone,  became  interested  in  that  opening  up  of  the 
Kentucky  wilds  which  followed  the  Revolution.  In 
1780  he  left  his  comfortable  farm  in  Virginia  and  set 
forth  to  face  all  the  discomforts  of  Kentucky's  "dark 
and  bloody  ground."  Dark  and  bloody  indeed  it  proved 
itself  to  be. 

To  trace  the  western  wanderings  of  the  Lincoln 
family  on  a  map  carries  a  fascination  when  realizing 
that  in  the  days  long  before  any  Lincoln  Highway, 
these  counties,  now  so  thickly  speckled  on  the  map 
with  little  railroad  stations,  were  then  only  untouched 
wilderness,  with  here  and  there  a  lonely  settlement  or 
stout  fort,  and  it  took  keen  woodsmanship  to  follow 
half-blazed  trails  to  any  very  distant  destination.  With 
map  before  us  we  can  see  grandfather  Abraham  Lin- 
coln leaving  Rockingham  County,  which  lies  toward 
the  northern  end  of  the  Blue  Ridge  on  its  western 
slope.  Across  Virginia  he  drove  and  on  across  Ken- 
tucky. Westward  he  persevered  through  this  wild 
state,  and  on  beyond  "Bloody  Breathitt"  of  mountain 
feud  fame.  He  did  not  stop  until  he  reached  the  very 
western  border  of  Kentucky  on  the  Ohio  River,  a 
stupendous  journey  in  a  covered  wagon.  He  settled 
in  Jefferson  County,  on  Government  land,  and  labori- 
ously cleared  a  little  farm  in  the  heart  of  the  forest. 
Then  one  morning  in  1785  when  setting  out  to  work  at 
the  edge  of  his  clearing,  accompanied  by  his  three  sons, 
Mordecai,  Josiah  and  Thomas,  an  Indian,  hiding  in  the 
woods,  shot  and  killed  him. 

Mordecai,  the  eldest  son,  ran  back  to  the  house  for 
a  gun,  Josiah  raced  to  the  nearby  Fort  Hughes  for  aid, 
and  both  left  five-year-old  Thomas  behind  by  the  dead 


10      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

body  of  his  father.  The  Indian  now  crept  out  of  the 
thicket  and  advanced  toward  Thomas.  Though  the 
savage  was  frightful  with  war  paint  daubed  on  his  face 
and  naked  chest,  this  very  paint  proved  his  undoing, 
for  Mordecai,  seizing  a  rifle,  had  sighted  through  a 
loophole  of  the  cabin,  and  aiming  at  a  white  ornament 
on  the  Indian's  breast,  shot  and  killed  him.  Thus 
saved,  little  Thomas  fled  to  the  house,  and  as  other 
Indians'  heads  now  kept  appearing  through  the  bushes, 
Mordecai  continued  firing  until  Josiah  returned  with 
assistance  from  the  Fort. 

As  this  was  the  Thomas  Lincoln  who  became  father 
of  the  President,  it  is  interesting  to  see  how  he  fared 
after  the  death  of  his  father  in  the  wilderness. 

Thomas  was  the  son  of  Abraham's  second  wife,  and 
of  all  the  Biblical  names  in  the  Lincoln  family  hers — 
Bathsheba — was  perhaps  the  most  picturesque.  Bath- 
sheba  Herring  Lincoln  was  far  too  frail  to  survive  the 
rigors  of  frontier  life  and  soon  died,  leaving  her  little 
boy  to  the  cruel  chances  of  a  pioneer  existence  in  the 
Indian  country. 

Mordecai  and  Josiah,  who  had  run  off  and  left  small 
Thomas  by  his  father's  corpse,  persisted  in  their  neg- 
lect of  the  boy.  As  sons  of  their  father's  first  wife, 
they  took  heartless  advantage  of  the  old  English  law 
of  the  rights  of  the  eldest,  then  in  force  in  Kentucky, 
and  so  ousted  Thomas  from  any  inheritance  claim  to 
his  father's  estate,  which  was  substantial.  In  all  the 
good  old  stories  misfortune  finally  overtakes  the 
wicked  elder  brothers,  while  the  abused  younger  brother 
comes  into  such  prosperity  and  fame  that  he  may  well 
afford  to  be  magnanimous.    But  the  story  of  Thomas 


LINCOLN'S  "FOLKS"  11 

Lincoln  is  not  that  of  a  boy  Cinderella  nor  of  Joseph 
and  his  brethren.  His  elder  brothers  were  always  pros- 
perous and  he  was  always  poor.  Mordecai  became 
quite  influential,  serving  at  one  time  as  sheriff  of 
Washington  County,  Kentucky,  and  later  as  member 
of  that  state's  legislature.  He  was  a  genial  soul,  fun- 
loving  and  witty.  Abraham  Lincoln  used  to  say, 
"Uncle  Mord  walked  off  with  all  the  brains  of  the 
family."  Josiah  settled  in  Harrison  County,  Indiana, 
and  lived  in  comfortable  circumstances  as  a  well- 
to-do  farmer  until  a  ripe  old  age.  Hardship  dogged 
Thomas's  footsteps  all  his  days,  but  perhaps  after  all 
he  achieved  greater  heights  than  either  of  his  brothers 
in  that  he  became  father  of  the  immortal  President. 

It  is  sometimes  supposed  that  Thomas  Lincoln  was 
nothing  but  a  shiftless,  wandering  ne'er-do-well,  and  a 
word  in  his  defense  is  only  just. 

Thomas  was  born  back  in  Rockingham  County,  Vir- 
ginia, on  January  20th,  1780,  in  the  very  year  when 
his  father,  presumably  as  early  in  the  spring  as  roads 
became  at  all  passable,  set  out  for  Kentucky.  Only 
a  few  months  old,  therefore,  and  not  yet  weaned, 
Thomas  stood  the  rough  trip  west  by  wagon.  Or- 
phaned at  five  years,  he  was  passed  about,  leading  a 
miserable  life  after  his  mother  died.  With  no  one  to 
care  for  him  he  grew  up  to  lead  a  lonely,  wandering 
existence,  making  his  way  by  odd  jobs  at  farming  and 
carpentering  until,  at  the  age  of  twenty-five,  he  had 
saved  up  enough  money  to  buy  that  blizzard-stricken 
farm  on  Nolen  Creek.  It  was  not  a  very  good  farm 
but  it  was  the  best  his  small  means  afforded.  He  is 
said  to  have  been  an  easy-going  man,  slow  to  anger 


12      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

but  formidable  when  aroused.  He  was  tall  and  power- 
ful, a  hard  worker  and  like  his  famous  son,  a  great 
wrestler.  Perhaps  the  fact  that  he  kept  moving  from 
one  farm  to  another  all  his  life  was  not  wholly  due 
to  his  failure  to  make  good  in  one  spot.  Doubtless 
he,  too,  felt  the  restlessness  of  that  pioneer  spirit  which 
marked  his  family,  and  possibly  under  more  favorable 
circumstances  he  might  have  achieved  success  if  not 
actual  fame  for  himself.  At  any  rate  he  showed  sound 
judgment  in  his  choice  of  a  wife  and  fortune  favored 
him  here. 

Nancy  Hanks,  who  married  Thomas  Lincoln  on 
June  12,  1806,  was  a  woman  of  marked  charm  and 
spirit.  At  the  time  of  her  marriage  she  was  in  her 
twenty-third  year,  tall,  slender,  dark,  and  with  a  melan- 
choly expression  which  later  often  marked  her  son's 
features.  Like  him,  she  had  an  undercurrent  of  sad- 
ness beneath  an  exterior  of  steadfast  cheerfulness,  a 
sadness  gained  no  doubt  from  bitter  tastes  of  life. 
Nancy  Hanks  was  characterized  by  a  natural  refine- 
ment, a  calm  disposition  and  a  braveness  of  spirit  that 
met  blizzards,  births,  poverty  and  pioneering  un- 
daunted. Her  good  judgment  and  fine  memory  served 
invaluably  in  guiding  her  son  on  toward  things  better 
than  cabin  life  presented. 

Thomas  and  Nancy  were  married  at  the  home  of  her 
aunt,  Lucy  Shipley  Berry,  wife  of  Richard  Berry,  her 
guardian.  The  ceremony  was  performed  by  Jesse 
Head,  a  Methodist  minister,  who,  by  the  way,  was  also 
a  carpenter  and  cabinet  maker,  for  ministers  were  not 
paid  enough  in  those  days  to  afford  them  a  living. 
Nancy's  guardian  set  forth  a  fine  wedding  supper  and 


LINCOLN'S  "FOLKS"  13 

we  are  told  that  "there  was  bear  meat,  venison,  wild 
turkey,  ducks'  eggs,  both  wild  and  tame,  and  maple  sugar 
swung  on  a  string  to  bite  off  for  coffee  or  whiskey; 
there  was  syrup  of  peach  and  honey  in  great  gourds, 
barbecued  sheep  and  a  race  for  the  whiskey  bottle." 

The  record  of  that  wedding  party  remains  in  this 
list  of  things  to  eat.  Records  of  weddings  to-day  em- 
phasize chiefly  the  clothes  the  bride  wore.  Perhaps 
some  day  it  will  be  the  custom  to  list  the  ideals  for 
marriage  held  by  the  bride  and  groom  and  the  qualities 
of  character  each  offer  toward  that  end. 

Nancy's  people  gave  the  young  couple  a  substantial 
send-off  in  the  hearty  backwoods  way.  The  tables  for 
the  wedding  feast  were  made  of  puncheons  cut  from 
solid  logs  and  next  day  these  were  laid  as  the  floor  of 
the  new  cabin. 

The  new  cabin  where  Thomas  and  Nancy  began  their 
life  together  was  in  the  small  hamlet  of  Elizabethtown, 
Kentucky,  which  Thomas  thought  would  prove  pleas- 
anter  for  Nancy  than  his  lonely  farm  fourteen  miles 
away.  He  hoped,  too,  to  earn  a  better  living  at  car- 
penter work  than  he  might  at  farming.  Their  first 
child,  Nancy  (afterwards  called  Sarah  to  avoid  con- 
fusion), was  born  here  less  than  a  year  after  their  mar- 
riage. Before  she  was  two  years  old  Thomas  realized 
that  he  was  carrying  on  a  losing  struggle  to  make  a 
living  in  Elizabethtown  where  there  was  scant  money 
to  hire  carpenters  where  every  man  must  be  his  own, 
so  he  gave  it  up  and  moved  his  family  to  his  Nolen 
Creek  farm  just  in  time  for  Abraham  to  be  born  in 
the  new  home.  What  kind  of  a  home  it  was  we  shall 
soon  see. 


CHAPTER  III 

LOG   CABIN   DAYS 

The  Nolen  Creek  place  was  known  by  the  pleasing 
name  of  "Rock  Spring  Farm"  because  of  its  one  at- 
tractive feature,  a  fine  spring  of  water  welling  out  of 
rocks  and  shaded  by  a  pleasant  grove, — the  very  spring 
upon  which  Isom  Enlow  so  fortunately  tumbled  on  that 
eventful  stormy  night.  Except  for  the  spring,  how- 
ever, the  place  was  miserable  for  farming.  The  land 
was  only  partly  cleared  and  the  soil  was  so  thin  and 
rocky  that  you  may  guess  at  once  that  Thomas  Lincoln 
was  not  going  to  succeed  upon  it.  Nevertheless,  for 
four  years  he  tried  to. 

During  this  time  Abraham  grew  up  to  run  about 
and  his  cousin,  Dennis  Hanks,  tells  us  that  he  was  a 
good  little  boy,  "as  solemn  as  a  papoose,  but  interested 
in  everything/'  He  grew  fast  and  long-legged  and 
Dennis  said  "he  never  gave  his  mother  any  trouble 
except  to  keep  him  in  clothes."  The  small  Abraham 
was  out  playing  barefoot  in  the  woods  "about  as  soon 
as  he  was  weaned"  and  by  the  time  he  was  four  he 
was  fishing  in  the  creek,  setting  traps  for  hares  and 
muskrats,  following  bees  to  find  the  honey  in  bee  trees 
and  trotting  with  his  father  and  cousin  after  the  dogs 
in  coon  hunts.  The  farm  might  have  been  a  failure, 
and  the  cabin  a  discouragement  to  Nancy's  home- 
making  efforts,  but  all  the  same  Rock  Spring  must 

14 


LOG  CABIN  DAYS  15 

have  been  a  pleasant  place  for  a  little  boy  in  sum- 
mer. 

We  have  the  word  of  Tom's  personal  friend,  the  old 
country  doctor,  that  this  cabin  home  was  not  wholly 
uncomfortable.  The  doctor  declared,  "All  this  talk  of 
the  Lincolns  living  half  sheltered  in  a  little  shanty  is 
pure  foolishness.  They  kept  a  cow  and  had  plenty  of 
milk  and  butter  and  they  had  a  good  feather  bed,  for  I 
have  slept  in  it  myself.  Tom  Lincoln  was  a  man  and 
always  did  the  best  he  could  for  his  family/' 

In  1813  when  Abraham  was  four  years  old,  his 
father  gave  up  the  struggle  on  Nolen  Creek  and  moved 
fifteen  miles  away  to  what  he  hoped  would  prove  a 
better  farm  on  Knob  Creek.  And  now  came  Abra- 
ham's opportunity  to  go  to  school. 

In  those  days  school  in  the  wilderness  was  a  hit-or- 
miss  matter  of  chance,  depending  on  whether  there 
happened  to  be  some  educated  man  thereabouts  who 
was  not  only  willing  to  teach  a  term  or  two  until  some- 
thing better  showed  up,  but  who  had  an  arm  strong 
enough  to  discipline  the  bigger  boys,  and  it  depended 
also  on  whether  some  neighbor  was  able  to  board  the 
schoolmaster  while  he  taught. 

Two  men  proved  available  at  Knob  Creek  at  this 
time,  first  Zachariah  Riney,  a  Catholic,  and  later  Caleb 
Hazel.  Little  is  known  of  either  man,  but  that  Abra- 
ham went  to  school  to  them  we  do  know,  through 
Austen  Gallaher,  the  same  Austen  whose  parents 
brought  comfort  to  Mrs.  Lincoln  on  the  night  of  the 
blizzard.  Austen  was  a  schoolmate  of  Abraham's  and 
it  was  he  who  told  that  little  Lincoln  was  unusually 
bright  in  school  and  that  he  made  quick  headway  in  his 


16      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

studies.  He  says  that  Abraham  "learned  faster  than 
any  boy  in  school  and  though  so  little  studied  very 
hard.  He  would  get  spicewood  bushes  and  hack  them 
up  and  burn  two  or  three  together  so  that  he  could 
have  light  to  study  by  at  night.'* 

Probably  Mother  Lincoln  had  something  to  do  with 
the  spicewood  firelight  by  which  her  little  boy  read. 
Certainly  she  took  special  pains  to  teach  him  and  Sarah. 
At  her  knee  they  learned  Bible  stories  and  fairy  tales 
by  heart.  With  her  they  read  Robinson  Crusoe, 
"jEsop's  Fables,  Pilgrim's  Progress  and  other  sucH 
books  that  were  familiar  enough  at  firesides  in  older 
states,  but  rare  at  that  time  in  Kentucky  forest  cabins. 
These  stories  formed  the  chief  treat  and  diversion  for 
the  children  in  their  shut-in  backwoods  life  and  they 
devoured  every  volume  with  an  eagerness  they  might 
not  have  shown,  had  books  been  mere  commonplace 
possessions. 

Besides  the  "A  B  C  schools"  in  the  woods,  the  only 
other  medium  of  information  in  those  days  was 
"preaching."  When  a  traveling  parson  came  around, 
every  one  from  the  country  round  loaded  lunch  baskets 
into  wagons  and  drove  to  listen  to  him  and  to  enjoy 
the  society  of  others  gathered  there.  "Preaching"  was 
an  event. 

One  of  these  preachers,  the  Baptist  parson,  David 
Elkin,  was  among  those  who  occasionally  shared  over- 
night hospitality  in  the  Lincoln  cabin  when  he  made 
his  ministerial  rounds.  We  may  imagine  this  kindly 
man,  his  baggy  clothes  wrinkled  and  worn  by  horse- 
back riding,  resting  by  the  Lincoln  fireside  in  the  eve- 
ning after  preaching,  while  the  small  Abraham  sat 


LOG  CABIN  DAYS  17 

quietly  on  the  floor  fascinated  by  his  talk.  This  man 
was  especially  remembered  by  the  impressionable  boy 
when  some  years  later  there  was  sad  need  to  call  upon 
a  parson.  » 

It  was  from  these  itinerant  preachers  that  Abraham 
gained  his  first  knowledge  of  public  speaking.  Child- 
like, he  loved  to  imitate  them,  and  one  of  his  favorite 
games  was  to  gather  his  playmates  together,  and  stand- 
ing up  before  them  on  some  stump,  delight  his  audience 
with  his  lusty  preaching,  shouting  and  thumping.  This 
enjoyment  in  speaking  remained  and  served  him  well 
in  years  to  come. 

Few  intimate  details  are  known  of  these  early  boy- 
hood days  of  Lincoln's  life.  Isolated  for  the  most  part 
on  his  father's  forest  farm,  he  was  left  much  to  soli- 
tude and  his  own  thoughts  and  though  these  days  surely 
made  a  permanent  impression  upon  his  merry  and 
melancholy  temperament,  he  remembered  little  of  them 
to  tell  about  later  on. 

There  are  left  now  only  the  faintest  glimpses  into 
Lincoln's  boyhood  during  these  early  years.  Once, 
when  asked  what  he  remembered  of  the  War  of  1812, 
he  answered,  "Nothing  but  this.  I  had  been  fishing  and 
had  caught  a  little  fish  which  I  was  taking  home.  I  met 
a  soldier  on  the  road.  Having  been  told  at  home  that 
we  must  always  be  good  to  the  soldiers,  I  gave  him 
my  fish."  In  the  lean,  angular  little  backwoods  boy, 
with  serious  face,  great  shock  of  black  hair  and  gawky 
homespun  clothes,  the  soldier  could  not  recognize  a 
future  commander-in-chief  of  the  army  and  navy,  but 
in  his  "being  good  to  the  soldier"  we  can  recognize  a 
generous  child  and  a  patriotic  home.     On  another  pc- 


18      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

casion  we  can  picture  him  as  a  little  boy  of  strength 
and  spunk,  when,  at  six  years  old  and  tall  for  his  age, 
he  had  his  first  fight.  The  neighborhood  boys  used  to 
be  sent  to  the  old  water  mill  with  corn  to  be  ground. 
While  waiting  their  turn  they  passed  their  time  with 
fighting  and  frolics.  In  these  Abraham  did  not  join 
and  it  is  said  that  he  was  "the  shyest,  most  reticent, 
homeliest  and  worst  dressed  of  any  in  the  crowd.', 
Some  big  boys  bullied  him  one  day,  and  thereupon 
Abraham,  to  their  huge  surprise,  flew  upon  them  and 
thrashed  three  boys  in  succession,  and  then  with  his 
back  to  a  tree  breathlessly  defied  all  comers,  yelling  at 
them  his  taunts  of  cowardice. 

Old  enough  to  fight,  he  was  old  enough  to  work,  and 
about  this  time  he  was  to  be  seen  trudging  through  the 
fields  after  his  father,  carrying  water,  fetching  tools, 
picking  berries,  pulling  weeds  and  planting  seeds.  The 
farm  lay  in  a  valley,  surrounded  by  high  hills  cut  by 
such  deep  gorges  that  a  heavy  rain  in  the  hills  would 
gush  down  the  gorges  and  flood  the  unlucky  farm.  The 
very  last  work  that  Abraham  did  on  the  Knob  Creek 
farm  was  to  plant  pumpkin  seeds  one  Saturday  after- 
noon, while  others  sowed  corn.  On  Sunday  morning  a 
heavy  rain  fell  high  in  the  hills,  and  although  not  a 
drop  sprinkled  the  valley,  the  water  from  the  hills 
rushed  down  through  the  gorges  and  washed  all  the 
corn  and  pumpkin  seeds  completely  out  of  the  ground. 
Thoroughly  disheartened  on  Knob  Creek,  Thomas  Lin- 
coln again  prepared  to  move  on. 

The  War  of  1812,  though  little  remembered  by  Abra- 
ham, had  brought  hard  times  throughout  the  country. 
As  a  relief  measure  the  Government  offered  its  wild 


LOG  CABIN  DAYS  19 

lands  north  of  the  Ohio  to  settlers  on  an  easy  credit 
system.  In  Kentucky  there  were  serious  troubles  about 
land  titles  and  the  slave  system  in  this  state  pressed 
hard  on  those  who  labored.  Slavery  was  firmly  estab- 
lished there  and  the  small  farmer  "had  far  less  chance 
of  rising  than  of  lapsing  into  the  scorned  class  of  'poor 
whites.'  " 

Thomas  Lincoln  was  too  spirited  to  endure  such  con- 
ditions. He  abhorred  slavery,  chose  to  live  in  a  free 
state  and  accordingly  set  out  to  settle  in  Indiana. 


CHAPTER  IV 

EMIGRATING 

When  Fall  came  on  in  1816,  and  what  crops  sur- 
vived were  harvested,  Thomas  Lincoln  started  out  alone 
to  find  a  place  to  live  in  Indiana. 

He  had  always  liked  water,  and  in  the  course  of  his 
various  occupations  had  at  one  time  been  a  flatboatman 
and  made  two  trips  to  New  Orleans  with  an  Isaac 
Bush.  This  Isaac  Bush,  by  the  way,  was  a  relative  of 
a  lifelong  friend  of  Tom's  back  in  Elizabethtown, — 
Sally  Bush,  of  whom  we  shall  hear  much  later  on. 

With  his  fondness  for  water,  it  was  natural  that 
when  Tom  Lincoln  decided  to  emigrate  from  Knob 
Creek  he  should  turn  to  the  watercourses  at  his  door 
for  transportation,  in  preference  to  rough  wild  trails 
half-blazed  through  Indian  haunted  woods. 

The  adventure  of  moving  was  heightened  for  Abra- 
ham by  the  excitement  of  building  a  boat.  Voyaging, 
even  on  inland  streams,  has  always  thrilled  boyish 
imaginations  and  no  doubt  Abraham  was  eager  for  the 
trip  and  full  of  dreams  of  a  new  life,  as  day  after  day 
he  hung  about  his  father's  boatbuilding  on  the  Creek 
bank.  Here  Tom  Lincoln  felled,  hacked,  split  and 
sawed  the  trees  that  went  into  the  making  of  that  none- 
too-seaworthy  craft.  This  crude  boat  was  at  last  tri- 
umphantly launched  on  Rolling  Fork  at  the  mouth  of 

Knob  Creek,  about  half  a  mile  from  the  cabin. 

20 


EMIGRATING  21 

Thomas  loaded  it  with  tools  and  most  of  their  per- 
sonal property,  trading  off  the  rest  of  his  belongings 
for  four  hundred  gallons  of  whiskey  which  he  added 
to  his  cargo.  Whiskey  was  a  currency  of  sure  exchange 
in  trade  and  "swapping"  wherever  he  might  go.  With 
this  aboard  his  treacherous  boat,  Thomas  Lincoln  put 
out  to  stream  alone,  floated  with  the  current  down  into 
Salt  River  and  reached  the  Ohio  River  safely.  But 
here  the  roughness  of  the  larger  river  proved  too  much 
for  the  cranky  craft.  It  capsized  and  the  cargo  sank  to 
the  bottom.  Tom  only  succeeded  in  fishing  up  a  few 
tools  and  "most  of  the  whiskey," — his  household  pos- 
sessions were  lost  in  the  river  mud, — but  he  righted  the 
boat  and  floated  without  further  mishap  down  the  river 
to  Thompson's  Ferry,  two  and  a  half  miles  west  of 
Troy  in  Perry  Co.,  Indiana.  Here  he  sold  the  boat,  and 
leaving  what  was  left  of  his  cargo  with  a  settler  named 
Posey,  he  struck  off  on  foot  through  the  wilderness  to 
choose  a  home  site. 

To  pick  a  good  location  in  that  vast  uncleared  ex- 
panse was  no  easy  task  for  one  man  alone  and  un- 
charted. He  tramped  for  days  on  the  outlook  for  good 
water  supply,  steering  clear  of  thin  soil  like  that  so  un- 
fruitful at  Rock  Spring,  and  suspicious  of  hills  lest  they 
work  such  disaster  on  crops  as  Knob  Creek  suffered. 
He  hoped,  too,  to  locate  near  some  settlement  con- 
venient for  supplies.  At  last  he  came  upon  a  place  he 
thought  would  do.  A  great  greenwood,  clear  of  under- 
brush, spread  out  before  him,  with  rich  level  sward 
stretching  through  dense  groves  of  huge  trees  of  origi- 
nal growth — prolific  in  oak,  beech,  walnut  and  sugar 
maples.    Occasionally  he  came  upon  a  little  space  of 


22      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

flat  clear  prairie  set  down  amid  that  wide  stretch  of 
forest.  One  of  these  he  chose,  a  place  that  lay  sixteen 
miles  from  the  river,  between  the  Big  and  Little  Pigeon 
Creeks,  only  half  a  mile  from  the  village  of  Gentry- 
ville.  These  woods  were  rich  in  game,  and  another 
little  prairie  not  far  off  was  well  known  by  hunters 
as  a  famous  deer  lick. 

Surely  this  land  was  promising.  Satisfied  with  his 
choice,  Thomas  Lincoln  walked  all  the  way  back  to 
Kentucky  to  bring  his  wife  and  children. 

The  high  hopes  of  her  husband  and  excitement  of 
the  children  at  the  prospect  of  moving  were  not  wholly 
shared  by  Nancy  Lincoln  who  was  filled  with  sadness 
at  bidding  good-by  to  such  good  neighbors  as  the 
Gallahers  and  Enlows.  Abraham,  too,  was  sobered  at 
the  actual  parting  with  his  playmate,  Austen,  and  both 
boys  exchanged  keepsakes,  vowing  to  remember  one 
another  always.  Those  Knob  Creek  days  were  to  fade 
from  Abraham's  memory,  but  they  left  their  lasting 
mark  upon  his  temperament.  One  scene  he  never  for- 
got. The  last  thing  he  did  before  leaving  Knob  Creek 
was  to  go  with  his  mother  and  sister  for  a  farewell 
visit  to  the  wee  grave  of  their  baby  brother,  Thomas, 
who,  born  in  1813,  lived  so  short  a  time  that  the  chil- 
dren scarcely  remembered  him  at  all.  The  mother's 
heart  sank  at  leaving  behind  her  this  tiny  grave,  im- 
perfectly marked  by  a  few  rough  stones,  and  sure  to 
be  obliterated  soon  by  woodland  undergrowth.  Over 
this  little  mound  Nancy  broke  into  such  a  torrent  of 
grief  that  the  distressing  scene  was  etched  forever  on 
lier  son's  memory. 

After  this  the  family  turned  their  backs  on  old  Ken- 


EMIGRATING  28 

tucky  and  set  their  faces  hopefully  toward  new  forest 
trails. 

Packing  up  to  move  was  a  slight  matter  since  their 
remaining  household  goods  were  scant.  Tom  Lincoln 
had  two  horses  but  no  wagon  and  the  load  had  to  be 
condensed  to  fit  these  animals'  backs.  Roped  on  the 
pack  horses  were  clothing,  bedding,  corn  meal  and  only 
such  cooking  utensils  as  were  bare  necessities :  "one 
oven  and  lid,  one  skillet  and  lid,  and  some  tin-ware." 

They  camped  out  along  the  way,  and  their  meals, 
cooked  over  open  fires,  consisted  of  corn  pone,  roasted 
in  the  ashes ;  and  squirrels,  rabbits  or  quail  shot  down 
by  Tom's  gun.  The  horses  had  to  find  their  own 
fodder  by  grazing.  Mrs.  Lincoln  and  Sarah  eased 
their  journey  by  riding  on  the  pack  horses,  but  sturdy 
Abraham  for  the  most  part  stumped  manfully  on  foot 
beside  his  father. 

As  the  little  cavalcade  pushed  on  through  the  woods 
it  presented  a  graphic  subject  for  a  painting  of  pioneer 
life.  Tom  Lincoln  led  the  way,  gun  and  ax  slung 
across  his  shoulders,  determination  in  his  eye,  and  his 
powerful  frame  inevitably  slouching  with  the  weari- 
ness of  this,  his  second  trip  on  foot  over  the  long  rough 
miles.  He  led  one  pack  horse  with  his  wife  and  daugh- 
ter perched  upon  its  back.  Little  Sarah,  clasping  her 
mother's  waist,  leaned  wearily  against  Nancy's  back, 
while  Nancy,  herself,  erect  and  brave,  kept  up  their 
spirits  with  her  cheer.  Cheerful  she  might  steadily  re- 
main, but  across  her  dark,  angular  features  lay  the 
shadow  of  sadness  and  she  gazed  ahead  with  unspoken 
foreboding.  Behind  trudged  Abraham  with  the  other 
thin  horse,  a  lean,  dark  boy,  tall  and  long-legged  for 


24      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

his  age,  the  very  figure  of  a  small  woodsman  in  Daniel 
Boone  coonskin  cap,  buckskin  breeches  and  Indian 
moccasins. 

When  the  emigrants  finally  reached  Thompson's 
Ferry  they  left  the  Kentucky  shore  and  crossed  at  last 
into  Indiana.  With  map  before  us  we  may  see  and 
better  appreciate  the  way  they  came.  There  lies  Hardin 
County  on  the  western  border  of  Kentucky,  upon  the 
Ohio  River.  The  map  shows,  if  not  Knob  Creek,  at 
least  Elizabethtown,  and  Hodgenville,  in  the  middle  of 
the  county.  Across  the  river  and  south  in  Perry 
County,  Indiana,  Troy  still  stands  upon  the  map  and 
it  was  sixteen  miles  from  here  that  Tom's  location  lay. 
As  the  crow  flies,  this  was  perhaps  a  hundred  miles 
from  Knob  Creek  and  we  can  be  sure  that  Tom  Lincoln 
could  not  take  that  "shortest  distance  between  two 
points"  but  was  forced  to  twist  and  turn  and  add  many 
a  mile  to  the  journey  in  finding  passable  trails.  He 
had  walked  from  Perry  County  to  Knob  Creek  once, 
and  now  in  walking  must  have  been  rounding  out 
some  two  hundred  foot-weary  miles.  At  Posey's  Tom 
hired  a  wagon  and  loaded  into  it  his  packs  as  well  as 
the  whiskey  and  other  property  which  he  had  stored 
there.  The  family  then  climbed  in  and  started  on 
toward  the  place  that  was  to  become  famous  as  "The 
Lincoln  Farm."  A  few  miles  the  wagon  thumped  over 
a  path  blazed  through  the  woods  by  some  earlier  settler. 
Then  this  path  ended  and  the  forest  confronted  them, 
impassable  for  a  two-horse  wagon.  The  family  had  to 
get  out  and  camp  while  Tom  laboriously  cut  a  passage 
with  his  ax.  One  slow  mile  at  a  time  the  little  caravan 
advanced  as  Tom  cleared  a  way  before  it.    Days  passed 


EMIGRATING  25 

before  they  had  traversed  the  sixteen  miles  to  Pigeon 
Creek. 

The  new  home  site  was  beautiful  and  the  soil  rich. 
We  are  told  that  "the  selection  was  wise  in  every 
respect  but  one :  there  was  no  water  near  except  what 
collected  in  holes  in  the  ground  and  that  had  to  be 
strained  before  it  would  do  even  for  washing." 

It  was  Abraham's  and  Sarah's  daily  task  to  lug 
water  for  drinking  and  cooking  from  a  spring  a  mile 
away.  Thomas  Lincoln  is  said  to  have  "riddled  his 
land  like  a  honeycomb"  in  search  of  pure  water,  and 
"was  sorely  tempted  to  employ  a  Yankee  who  came 
around  with  a  divining  rod  declaring  that  for  the  small 
sum  of  five  dollars  in  cash  he  would  make  his  rod  point 
to  a  cool,  flowing  stream  beneath  the  surface." 

Tom  Lincoln  set  about  building  a  temporary  shelter 
at  once.  He  cut,  not  logs,  but  poles,  and  set  up  a 
"half-faced  camp,"  that  is,  a  hut  enclosed  on  three  sides 
and  open  on  the  fourth  with  nothing  but  a  dirt  floor, 
called  a  "camp"  to  distinguish  it  from  a  "cabin."  This 
camp  was  only  fourteen  feet  square  and  proved  tight 
quarters  for  a  family  of  four,  yet  for  a  whole  year 
this  was  their  only  home. 

With  the  building  of  this  camp,  Abraham's  baby- 
hood ended.  An  ax  was  put  into  his  seven-year-old 
hands,  and  he  was  set  to  work  to  help  in  cutting  poles 
for  the  hut  and  in  chopping  out  a  clearing  for  corn. 
From  now  on  he  was  to  wield  an  ax  until  he  won  fame 
as  the  "rail  splitter." 


CHAPTER  V 

HARD   TIMES 

Tom  Lincoln  was  certainly  not  a  "good  provider." 
Few  families,  even  in  that  day  and  wilderness,  had  to 
endure  such  wretched  makeshifts  as  his  family  faced, 
living  huddled  in  the  primitive  hut  throughout  the  bitter 
winter.  Many  a  cattle  shed  was  snugger  than  this  pole 
shelter.  For  all  we  know  to  the  contrary,  Thomas 
Lincoln  may  have  been  ill  that  fall  and  actually  unable 
to  make  better  provision  or  construct  a  weather-tight 
dwelling  at  once.  He  had  much  to  do,  single  handed, 
to  secure  bare  necessities,  and  Abraham's  childish  arms 
could  be  of  small  aid  in  felling  trees  large  enough  to 
build  a  stout  house.  Whatever  the  reason,  Tom's  man- 
agement then  and  later  failed  to  supply  adequate  shelter 
and  comforts. 

The  family  survived  the  winter  through  such  hard- 
ships as  we  can  only  guess  at,  and  the  summer  was 
devoted  to  cultivating  crops  and  also  to  cutting  and 
seasoning  fresh  lumber  for  a  cabin.  Not  until  after 
harvest  that  fall,  in  the  face  of  the  bleak  approach  of 
a  second  winter,  did  Tom  begin  to  build. 

He  then  put  up  a  "rough,  rough  log  house' '  close  by 
the  old  camp.  This  was  another  one-room  cabin  with 
an  outside  chimney  and  only  bare  earth  for  a  floor.  A 
door  and  window  were  cut  in  the  round  bark-covered 
logs  but  the  window  was  not  covered  with  the  custo- 

26 


HARD  TIMES  27 

mary  oiled  paper  to  let  in  light,  and  not  even  the  usual 
deerskin  hung  before  the  door,  to  ward  off  wind,  rain 
and  snow. 

As  it  had  been  impossible  to  bring  any  furniture 
along  by  pack  horse,  and  what  little  Tom  had  brought 
by  boat  now  lay  on  the  river  bottom,  Tom  and  Nancy 
had  to  turn  their  hands  to  making  chairs  and  tables  as 
best  they  could.  These  were  heavy  and  clumsy,  made 
of  rough  slabs  of  wood  with  holes  bored  into  them  into 
which  were  fitted  legs  which  were  uneven  enough  to 
teeter. 

The  bedstead  was  made  of  two  poles  supported  by 
foot  posts  with  the  other  ends  stuck  into  auger  holes 
bored  in  the  log  wall.  A  sack  of  corn  shucks  served 
as  mattress,  and  the  coverlids  were  skins.  Abraham's 
bed  was  a  pallet  of  dry  leaves  in  the  draughty  loft 
above,  which  he  reached,  not  by  a  ladder,  but  by  climb- 
ing up  wooden  pegs  in  the  wall.  Here  the  low  slant 
roof  made  it  perilous  to  stand  suddenly  erect,  and 
though  there  was  no  loft  window,  the  ill-chinked  walls 
let  in  more  fresh  air  than  was  often  comfortable.  Like 
all  log  cabins  this  one  was  often  smoky  from  the  crude 
chimney  and  unpleasant  with  the  vermin  that  infests 
fresh  lumber.  There  was  no  closet  or  cupboard  and 
the  family's  spare  clothes  dangled  on  the  walls  from 
pegs.  Cooking  was  done  by  spit,  pot  and  crane  in  the 
open  fireplace,  and  most  of  the  time  woods  and  field 
yielded  enough  to  eat.  Tom  brought  down  with  his 
gun  some  of  the  plentiful  deer,  often  wild  ducks  and 
turkeys,  quail  and  pheasants  and  sometimes  a  bear. 
Sarah  and  Abraham  ranged  abroad  picking  all  sorts  of 
wild  fruits  and  berries  which  were  dried  for  winter, 


28      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

while  meat  was  smoked.  There  was  always  cornbread, 
but  wheat  flour  was  a  luxury  due  to  difficulties  in 
thrashing  and  milling.  They  raised  no  pigs  nor  fowl, 
and  potatoes  seem  to  have  been  the  only  vegetable  they 
grew.  That  sometimes  potatoes  were  the  only  thing  on 
the  family  table  is  seen  in  Abraham's  famous  remark 
to  his  father  who  had  once  said  grace  over  a  single 
plate  of  ash-roasted  potatoes, — "potatoes  are  mighty 
poor  blessings." 

Evidence  appears  that  a  cow  had  been  added  to 
their  possessions  and  that  milk  was  in  use.  The  cow 
may  have  belonged  to  Nancy's  aunt  and  uncle,  Thomas 
and  Betsy  Sparrow,  who  arrived  from  Kentucky  soon 
after  the  Lincolns  had  settled  in  their  new  cabin  in  the 
fall  of  1817,  and  moved  into  the  deserted  camp.  They 
brought  with  them  a  congenial  neighborliness  and  did 
much  by  the  addition  of  their  company  to  brighten  life 
for  a  time  on  the  lonely  Lincoln  farm.  Nancy's  aunt 
Lucy  had  given  her  the  wedding  party,  but  Betsy 
Sparrow  was  the  aunt  who  had  taken  the  orphaned 
Nancy  Hanks  and  brought  her  up.  This  good-hearted 
soul  had  also  raised  her  nephew,  Dennis  Hanks,  now 
seventeen  years  old,  and  she  brought  him  along  with 
her  to  Pigeon  Creek.  Abraham  gladly  welcomed  his 
companion  of  the  old  coon  hunt  days  on  Knob  Creek 
and  the  two  boys  became  inseparable  companions  now. 
It  was  Dennis  Hanks  himself  who  gave  the  clearest  pic- 
ture of  these  days.  He  said  "everybody  was  poor  in 
those  days,  but  the  Lincolns  were  poorer  than  any- 
body." Most  of  the  time  he  and  Abraham  ran  bare- 
foot, and  he  gives  a  side  light  on  their  primitive 
clothes  in  his  scorn  for  moccasins,  which  moccasins 


HARD  TIMES  29 

gave  no  protection  against  the  snow  and  when  wet  felt 
"like  a  clammy  wet  buckskin  glove.,,  "Birch  bark  with 
hickory  bark  soles  strapped  over  yarn  socks  beat  buck- 
skin all  holler  for  snow,"  he  declared,  and  added,  "Abe 
V  me  got  pretty  handy  contriving  things  that  way." 

Tom  Lincoln,  according  to  Dennis,  was  a  strong  and 
sober  man.  "He  wasn't  lazy  or  afraid  of  anything." 
He  was  popular  and  he  "could  lick  a  bully  if  he  had 
to,"  but  "he  just  couldn't  get  ahead  somehow."  Chop- 
ping trees,  grubbing  roots,  and  splitting  rails  left  Tom 
no  spare  time.  It  was  all  he  could  do,  Dennis  testified, 
to  get  his  family  enough  to  eat  and  to  cover  them. 
Nancy  was  "terrible  ashamed  of  the  way  they  lived," 
according  to  Dennis,  but  she  knew  Tom  was  doing  his 
best  and  she  "wasn't  the  pestering  kind."  She  was 
"pretty  as  a  picture  and  smart  as  you'd  find  them  any- 
where. She  could  read  and  write,"  he  boasted.  Tom 
Lincoln  loved  Nancy  and  "was  as  good  to  her  as  he 
knew  how."  Dennis  vouches  for  Tom  that  he  "didn't 
swear,  or  drink,  or  play  cards,  or  fight,"  even  in  those 
hard  drinking  and  fighting  days.  So,  though  the  out- 
side shell  of  that  Pigeon  Creek  cabin  was  rough,  it  was 
this  family  spirit  within  that  made  it  the  home  that 
bred  Abraham  Lincoln.  With  the  kind  of  father  who 
would  faithfully  ask  a  blessing  even  over  a  single  dish 
of  potatoes,  and  with  a1  proud,  intelligent  mother,  who 
withal,  "was  not  the  pestering  kind,"  Abraham,  despite 
wet  moccasins,  ax  callouses  on  his  small  hands,  and 
only  a  bed  of  leaves  to  rest  his  back  upon  at  night,  was 
not  foregoing  much  of  true  value.  Of  his  parents,  his 
mother  was  clearly  the  stronger  character,  and  to  her 
imprint  on  him  is  due  much  that  made  him  famous. 


30      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

She  it  was  who  encouraged  Abraham  to  keep  at  his 
studies  even  when  Tom,  impatient  at  sight  of  the  strong 
boy  bent  over  arithmetic  or  spelling  book  when  there 
was  so  much  hard  outside  work  to  do,  belittled  "book 
learning"  with  disgust.  Sometimes  school  was  held 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  away,  near  Gentryville,  but  this 
was  irregular.  Whenever  a  schoolmaster  did  hold 
forth  there,  and  farm  work  permitted,  Abraham  at- 
tended this  country  school.  A  boy  named  Nathaniel 
Grigsby  (whose  brother  Aaron,  by  the  way,  grew  up 
to  marry  Abraham's  sister)  went  to  the  same  school 
in  those  days  and  tells  about  Abraham  as  follows : 

"He  was  always  at  school  early,  and  attended  to  his 
studies.  He  was  always  at  the  head  of  his  class  and 
passed  us  rapidly  in  his  studies.  He  lost  no  time  at 
home  and  when  he  was  not  at  work  he  was  at  his 
books.  He  kept  to  his  studies  on  Sunday  and  carried 
his  books  with  him  to  work  so  that  he  might  read  when 
he  rested  from  labor." 

After  Abraham  learned  to  write  he  kept  practicing 
his  new  art  all  over  any  flat  surface  that  was  handy. 
Dennis  Hanks  says,  "After  he  learned  to  write  he  was 
scratching  his  name  everywhere.  Sometimes  he  would 
write  it  on  the  white  sand  down  by  the  crick  bank  and 
leave  it  until  the  waves  would  blot  it  out.  Sometimes 
he  would  write  with  a  piece  of  charcoal  or  the  point  of 
a  burnt  stick  on  the  fence  or  hearth.  We  got  a  little 
paper  at  the  country  town  and  I  made  ink  out  of  black- 
berry briar  wood,  with  a  little  copperas  in  it.  It  was 
black,  but  the  copperas  would  eat  the  paper  after  a 
while.    I  made  his  first  pen  out  of  a  turkey  buzzard 


HARD  TIMES  31 

feather.  We  had  no  geese  them  days.  His  first  read- 
ing book  was  'Webster's  Speller.'  " 

His  mother  saw  to  it  that  Abraham  kept  on  writing, 
reading,  spelling  and  "ciphering/'  all  the  more  when 
there  was  no  regular  school  to  attend. 

Nancy  Lincoln  managed  to  instill  in  her  son  an 
undying  determination  not  to  let  any  difficulties  over- 
come his  love  of  learning.  Abraham  Lincoln's  actual 
attendance  in  school  hardly  amounted  to  a  total  of 
twelve  months  in  his  whole  life,  but  the  habit,  en- 
couraged by  his  mother,  of  everlastingly  snatching  a 
minute  here  and  there  to  study,  remained  with  him  all 
his  days.  She  imparted  to  him  also  an  abiding  Chris- 
tian faith  that  gave  him  the  keynote  to  human  hearts, 
guided  him  through  life,  and  proved  his  balance  wheel 
throughout  the  fearful  stress  and  turmoil  of  Civil  War. 

There  is  an  old  Jesuit  saying,  "If  you  give  me  a 
boy  until  he  be  seven  years  of  age,  I  care  not  who  has 
him  thereafter,"  meaning  that  the  influence  of  those 
first  years  will  prove  indelible.  Abraham  Lincoln  had 
his  mother's  influence  nine  years.  On  October  5th, 
18 18,  she  died. 

That  fall  there  had  been  an  epidemic  throughout  the 
Pigeon  Creek  region  of  a  disease  common  on  the 
frontier  in  those  days  and  known  to  settlers  as  "milk- 
sickness."  Its  origin  was  obscure,  but  people  supposed 
that  it  was  caused  by  cows  eating  some  poisonous  herb 
at  pasture  that  transmitted  its  venom  to  the  milk. 
Victims  were  seized  with  high  fever,  violent  trembling 
and  intense  pain  and  as  no  one  knew  how  to  treat  the 
malady,  the  sufferer  usually  died  in  a  very  few  days. 


32      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

There  were  no  doctors  in  the  wilderness  and  knowledge 
of  medicine  was  limited  to  country  herb  lore  of  un- 
certain efficacy.  When  people  fell  seriously  sick  in 
those  days  it  was  merely  a  question  of  chance  survival. 

In  late  September  of  that  year  Thomas  and  Betsy 
Sparrow  were  stricken  with  this  dread  disease,  and 
before  Dennis  could  realize  how  sick  they  were  both 
died  within  a  few  days  of  one  another.  Thomas  Lin- 
coln cut  trees  and  sawed  them  up  to  make  rough,  heavy 
coffins,  and  into  these  he  laid  the  bodies.  The  graves 
he  dug  on  a  little  knoll  in  the  forest,  and  then  he  and 
Dennis  carried  the  coffins  there,  stopping  to  rest  often 
from  the  sad  weight.  The  bodies  were  lowered  into 
the  graves  with  no  ceremony  but  their  own  bowed 
heads  and  prayers. 

Nancy  Lincoln  could  be  of  little  help  or  comfort  in 
these  sad  tasks  for  she  had  fallen  sick  and  Tom  in 
desperation  recognized  the  same  fatal  malady.  He 
knew  no  way  to  relieve  her  and  could  only  sit  and 
watch  her  failing  steadily  night  and  day  before  his 
hopeless  eyes.  Stricken  with  grief,  he  sat  about  miser- 
able and  helpless.  Abraham  and  Sarah,  childlike,  did 
not  realize  the  seriousness  of  their  mother's  condition. 
They  smoothed  her  bed  clothes,  stroked  her  hair,  held 
the  dripping  gourd  of  cold  spring  water  to  her  hot  lips 
and  doubtless  assured  one  another  that  she  "looked  bet- 
ter now."  The  mother  realized  that  she  was  leaving 
them  and  watched  her  children  with  dying  eyes,  wonder- 
ing how  they  would  fare  in  life  without  her.  At  last  she 
beckoned  them  to  her  bedside  and  patting  Sarah's 
hand  and  stroking  Abraham's  black  hair  she  bade  them 
always  be  kind  to  one  another,  charging  Abraham  es- 


HARD  TIMES  33 

pecially  to  be  good  to  his  father  and  his  sister.  Then 
she  exerted  herself  to  whisper  her  hope  that  they  would 
always  live  as  she  had  taught  them,  loving  their  neigh- 
bors and  worshiping  God.  Before  Sarah  and  Abra- 
ham half  realized  how  sick  she  was,  their  mother  died, 
seven  short  days  after  her  seizure.  So  Nancy  Hanks 
Lincoln  passed  out  of  the  life,  though  never  from  the 
memory,  of  her  son,  and  this  shadow  on  his  heart  was 
the  first  great  grief  in  his  life  of  many  sorrows. 

A  far  different  setting  from  the  stately  White  House 
was  this  cabin  home  with  its  hard  stamped  earth  floor, 
and  rough  clay-chinked  walls  hung  with  rifles  and 
powder  horns,  its  clumsy  wooden  stools  and  peg-legged 
benches,  and  its  strings  of  peppers,  dried  seed  corn, 
gourds  and  smoked  meat  hanging  from  the  rafters. 
Here  on  a  bed  of  corn  shucks  Nancy  Lincoln  lay  dead, 
while  tearful  at  the  cabin  door  stood  the  quaint  little 
backwoods  figure  of  the  boy  whose  fame  was  to  keep 
his  mother's  name  immortal  by  his  own  assertion :  "All 
that  I  am  or  hope  to  be  I  owe  to  my  sainted  mother.,, 
Through  the  window  opening  he  could  smell  the  fresh 
cut  pine  and  hear  the  rasp  of  his  father's  saw  at  work 
upon  her  coffin  as  another  epoch  in  his  life  was  closed. 

Neighbors  gathered  to  help  bear  the  coffin  to  its 
grave  on  the  little  knoll  beside  those  other  two  fresh 
mounds.  It  was  a  sorrowful  time,  for  many  beside 
Dennis  had  within  the  last  few  days  buried  their  own 
dead.  By  the  grave  stood  two  school-boy  friends  of 
Abraham's  whose  own  mother,  a  friend  of  Mrs.  Lin- 
coln's, had  died  only  a  few  days  before.  It  must  be 
hard  for  the  Death  Angel  to  take  reluctant  mothers 
from  their  children.     Perhaps,  though  out  of  sight, 


34      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

these  mothers  are  never  really  very  far  from  their  chil- 
dren after  all. 

The  burying  was  finished  when  the  earth  had  been 
heaped  into  the  grave  by  neighborly  hands.  No  minis- 
ter was  there  to  pray  or  read  the  Scripture.  Abra- 
ham's sensitive  heart  grieved  so  bitterly  over  his 
mother's  burial  without  a  funeral  service  that  he  made 
up  his  mind  to  have  one  as  soon  as  he  could.  Remem- 
bering the  friendly  preacher,  David  Elkin  of  Knob 
Creek  days,  he  took  his  turkey  buzzard  pen  and  com- 
posed the  first  letter  he  had  ever  written  to  ask  this  good 
man  to  come  and  preach  over  the  grave  of  his  mother. 
It  was  an  appeal  not  to  be  resisted,  and  though  this  trip 
would  take  the  parson  over  a  hundred  miles  out  of  his 
way,  he  promised  Abraham  that  he  would  come  as 
soon  as  he  chanced  to  be  near  the  Indiana  line. 

It  was  early  the  next  spring  that  he  came,  when  the 
forest  was  at  its  loveliest  with  springtime  promise  of 
new  life.  Word  was  sent  through  the  region  that  the 
preacher  was  coming,  and  nearly  200  men,  women,  and 
children  gathered  from  far  and  near  to  hear  the  funeral 
sermon. 

It  was  a  bright  and  sunny  Sabbath  morning,  and 
so  the  toil-worn  farmers  of  that  raw  countryside  were 
free  to  harness  the  plowing  oxen  to  their  rude  carts, 
pack  in  their  women-folk  and  a  lunch  for  the  long 
journey,  and  set  out  by  corduroy  roads  and  through 
forest  trails  to  the  scene  of  the  funeral.  There  they 
took  their  places  on  felled  trees  and  old  stumps,  the 
tragedy  of  the  occasion  making  them  silent  and  awe- 
struck. 

Soon  the  little  procession  came  winding  up  the  path 


HARD  TIMES  35 

from  the  Lincoln  cabin.  The  preacher  in  his  long  black 
coat  led  the  way.  Then  came  Thomas  Lincoln,  fol- 
lowed by  Abraham  and  his  sister  Sarah,  the  mother- 
less children.  Dennis  Hanks,  whose  foster-parents  had 
died,  and  who  had  been  taken  in  by  the  Lincolns,  came 
last. 

The  preacher  opened  his  Bible  at  the  top  of  the 
knoll,  and  with  the  country-folk,  weeping,  bareheaded, 
standing  about  him,  he  told  of  the  virtuous  life  of 
service  and  love  which  Nancy  Lincoln  had  lived,  and 
of  how  patiently  she  had  borne  her  sufferings.  His 
prayer,  the  last  words  spoken  over  her  grave,  was  a 
plea  for  the  children  from  whose  life  the  mother  love 
and  care  had  been  taken  so  abruptly.  It  was  beautiful 
and  simple,  and  in  the  busy  years  that  followed  the 
scene  must  have  come  back  to  Abraham  Lincoln  again 
and  again.  He  had  fulfilled  his  duty,  and  his  mother's 
Christian  life  was  closed  piously  as  she  would  have 
wished. 

It  was  Dennis  Hanks,  a  member  of  the  Lincoln 
family  from  this  time  on,  who  said  that  Abraham  got 
his  good  sense  and  sound  principles  from  both  parents, 
"but  his  kindness,  humor,  love  of  humanity  and  hatred 
of  slavery  all  came  from  his  mother.  I  am  free  to 
say,"  Dennis  adds,  "that  Abe  was  a  'mother's  boy/  " 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  STEPMOTHER 

The  motherless  home  was  a  forlorn  place  through- 
out the  hard  winter  and  summer  that  followed  Nancy's 
death.  There  was  too  much  back-breaking  work  for 
an  eleven-year-old  girl  to  do,  but  Sarah  faithfully 
struggled  with  it  for  more  than  a  year.  To  feed  three 
work-weary  and  hungry  "men  folks"  was  a  heavy  task 
in  itself  with  the  material  and  crude  cooking  utensils  on 
hand.  Often  Tom  and  Dennis  coming  home  from  the 
fields  had  to  help  with  the  meals  which  were  too  often 
poor,  unskill  fully  cooked,  unpalatable  and  hardly 
nourishing.  The  mother's  tasks,  too  difficult  for 
Sarah's  hands,  often  went  undone.  Nancy  at  her 
loom  had  steadily  woven  cloth,  then  cut  and  stitched  it 
to  clothe  them  all,  and  Sarah,  little  old  woman  though 
she  had  become,  could  not  keep  up  with  this.  Their 
garments,  giving  out,  were  clumsily  patched  and  too 
few  for  complete  comfort,  cleanliness  or  warmth. 
The  children,  heavy  hearted  and  neglected,  became 
thin,  shy,  silent,  melancholy  and  ragged  little  creatures. 
Too  plainly  they  needed  a  mother's  care.  No  one  in 
the  family  was  happy  or  even  comfortable  and  the 
thought  of  life  stretching  on  indefinitely  like  this  was 
unendurable. 

In  November,   1819,   following  the  spring  of  the 

belated  funeral  service,  Tom  stirred  himself  to  mend 

36 


A  STEPMOTHER  37 

matters.  In  doing  so  his  thoughts  turned  toward  a 
woman,  back  in  Elizabethtown,  Kentucky,  whom  he 
had  known  all  his  life.  This  was  Sally  Bush  (now 
widow  of  the  town  jailer,  Daniel  Johnston),  who  had 
three  well-grown  children  of  her  own.  Leaving  Abra- 
ham and  Sarah  under  the  care  of  Dennis,  Thomas  Lin- 
coln once  more  set  off  across  the  Ohio  River  and  into 
Kentucky  again.  In  Elizabethtown  he  looked  up  the 
whereabouts  of  the  widow  Johnston,  sought  her  out 
and  came  straight  to  the  point.  "Sally,"  said  Tom 
bluntly,  "I  am  a  lone  man  and  you  are  a  lone  woman. 
I  have  knowed  you  from  a  girl  and  you  have  knowed 
me  from  a  boy.  I  have  come  all  the  way  from  Indiana 
to  ask  if  you'll  marry  me,  right  off,  as  I've  no  time 
to  lose." 

"Tommy  Lincoln,"  replied  Sally,  "I  have  no  objec- 
tion to  marrying  you,  but  I  can't  do  it  right  off,  for  I 
owe  several  little  debts  which  must  be  paid  first." 

"You  give  them  to  me,"  said  Tom,  and  he  paid  them 
before  the  sun  went  down. 

The  next  morning,  December  second,  they  secured  a 
license  and  were  married,  and  not  only  did  they  pack 
up, — Tom's  brother-in-law  coming  with  a  four-horse 
wagon  to  drive  them  to  Indiana, — but,  taking  Sally's 
three  children  along  they  all  set  off  for  Pigeon  Creek 
the  self-same  day !  There  was  no  dallying  about  Sally 
Bush.  Tom  Lincoln  had  his  weaknesses,  but  he  showed 
wisdom  and  foresight  when  he  chose  a  wife. 

With  what  hopes  and  fears  and  speculations  must 
Abraham  and  Sarah,  peeping  out  like  little  wild  wood- 
land creatures,  have  watched  the  exciting  approach  of 
this  well-loaded   four-horse   team!     With   what   shy 


38      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

delight  must  they  have  welcomed  the  companionship  of 
their  new  brother  and  sisters! 

Though  rated  "a  poor  widow  woman"  in  Elizabeth- 
town,  Sally  possessed  household  goods  which  seemed 
truly  magnificent  when  installed  in  the  wretched  Lin- 
coln cabin.  For  one  thing,  she  had  a  bureau  which  cost 
forty  dollars,  and  this  Tom  considered  so  positively 
extravagant  that  he  urged  her  to  sell  it,  which  she 
firmly  refused  to  do.  She  brought  other  things  along 
which  furnished  the  poverty-stricken  cabin  for  the 
first  time  in  decent  comfort.  These  were  a  table  and 
a  good  set  of.  chairs  (fine  contrast  to  the  homemade 
stools  and  benches),  her  knives  and  forks,  a  capacious 
clothes  chest,  kitchen  things  and  beds  with  ample  bed- 
ding. It  was  a  memorable  day  for  Abraham  and 
Sarah  when  this  wonderful  collection  of  household 
goods  arrived  on  Pigeon  Creek. 

Sally  Bush  Lincoln  was  a  robust,  good-natured, 
capable  soul  and  "a  good  manager.' '  Best  of  all  she 
knew  how  to  manage  Tom  himself.  She  had  been  in 
the  cabin  no  time  at  all  before  she  made  him  put  down 
a  floor  and  hang  a  door  and  windows,  needs  he  had 
never  gotten  around  to  in  the  two  years  the  cabin  had 
been  standing. 

It  was  winter-time  when  the  new  mother  came  to 
that  meager  cabin,  and  for  the  first  time  since  they 
could  remember  Abraham  and  Sarah  actually  slept 
warm  all  night;  for  this  good  capable  woman  tucked 
them  in  with  her  abundance  of  blankets  and  patch-work 
quilts  as  cosily  as  she  did  her  own  son  and  two  daugh- 
ters. She  patched  their  few  rags  of  clothes,  too,  and 
knit  stockings  for  them,  and  tried,  as  she  put  it,  "to 


A  STEPMOTHER  39 

make  them  look  a  little  more  human."  "In  fact,"  says 
Dennis  Hanks,  "in  a  few  weeks  all  had  changed,  and 
where  everything  was  wanting,  now  all  was  snug  and 
comfortable."  She  must  have  been  very  tactful  in  her 
management  of  the  children,  for  the  two  broods  got 
along  perfectly  together,  sharing  household  tasks  as 
well  as  clothes  and  blankets.  She  encouraged  them  not 
only  to  be  neat,  but  also  to  study  and  be  ambitious. 
Her  good  advice  was  not  wasted  on  Abraham,  whom 
she  regarded  as  her  own  child. 

Sally  Bush  Lincoln,  thoughtful,  pious,  faithful  step- 
mother, outlived  Abraham,  and  not  long  before  her 
death  gave  this  testimony  of  his  character : 

"I  can  say,  what  scarcely  one  mother  in  a  thousand 
can  say,  that  Abe  never  gave  me  a  cross  word  or  look 
and  never  refused  to  do  anything  I  asked  him.  I  had  a 
son  John,  who  was  raised  with  Abe.  Both  were  good 
boys,  but  I  must  say,  both  now  being  dead,  that  Abe 
was  the  best  boy  I  ever  saw  or  expect  to  see." 


-v. 


CHAPTER  VII 

SCHOOL  DAYS 

Sally  Bush  Lincoln  had  not  been  long  at  the 
helm  in  the  Lincoln  family  when  she  realized  that 
Abraham  was  "no  common  boy."  His  intelligence,  his 
store  of  knowledge,  and  his  character  struck  her  as 
beyond  the  ordinary  and  she  made  up  her  vigorous 
mind  that  he  should  have  a  chance  to  "amount  to 
something." 

During  the  first  winter  that  Sally  spent  on  Pigeon 
Creek  a  school  opened  near  the  country  town  and  she 
packed  off  Abraham  and  his  sister  to  it  as  well  as  her 
own  three,  John,  Sarah  and  Matilda,  with  lunch  baskets 
on  their  arms.  These  baskets  held  corn  hoe  cakes, 
with  pieces  of  cold  game  or  perhaps  some  "hog  meat" 
and  wild  fruit.  Such  "eatings"  were  known  among  the 
settlers  as  "corn  dodgers  and  common  doin's"  in  con- 
trast to  the  holiday  treat  of  "light  bread  and  chicken 
fixin's."  kThese  "snacks"  were  eaten  at  the  noon  re- 
cess, the  pleasantest  social  hour  of  the  whole  school 
day.  Recess  was  spent  in  racing,  wrestling,  rough 
frolics  and  friendly  fights  among  the  boys;  in  arm-in- 
arm promenades  with  "secrets"  among  the  girls.  The 
boys  would  swing  the  girls,  squealing,  high  in  grape 
vine  swings  and  show  their  own  prowess  by  climbing 
up  and  swinging  down  by  their  own  weight  from  the 
tips  of  saplings. 

40 


SCHOOL  DAYS  41 

The  squat  log  school  house,  like  others  of  its  day,  sat 
in  the  woods  by  the  side  of  a  rutted  mud  road.  It  was 
built  of  round  logs,  nicked  at  the  ends  to  fit  together 
and  chinked,  like  its  pole  chimney,  with  red  clay.  A 
buck's  antlers  were  nailed  over  the  door.  This  school 
was  simply  another  one-room  cabin,  warmed  in  winter 
by  great  log  fires  kept  blazing  in  the  broad  fireplace 
by  the  big  boys.  The  stout  floor  was  made  of  split- 
log  puncheons,  and  split  logs  formed  the  desks.  A  desk 
consisted  of  half  a  log,  the  flat  smoothed  side  (worn 
glassy  by  young  arms)  turned  uppermost,  the  rounded 
bark  side  bored  with  auger  holes  and  legs  fitted  in, 
short  legs  for  small  scholars  in  the  front  of  the  room, 
long  legs  for  long-legged  pupils  in  the  rear.  The 
desks  stretched  all  across  the  room  and  several  pupils, 
seated  side  by  side  on  long  benches,  shared  each  desk, 
having  to  climb  from  the  side  aisles  over  each  other's 
legs  and  laps  to  reach  their  places. 

There  were  windows  in  the  schoolroom  made  by 
cutting  pieces  out  of  the  log  walls  and  framing  the 
holes  thus  made  by  rough  split  boards.  In  the  winter 
time  these  had  sheets  of  greased  leaves  from  copy 
books  pasted  across  in  place  of  glass  to  keep  out  the 
wind  and  let  in  light.  In  the  back  of  the  room,  on  a 
bench,  stood  a  cedar  water  bucket  with  one  gourd  dip- 
per floating  in  it.  The  boys  hung  their  caps  on  wooden 
pegs  in  the  schoolroom  wall  on  one  side,  the  girls* 
cloaks  and  calico  sunbonnets  dangled  from  pegs  on  the 
other  side.  Boys  sat  on  one  side  of  the  room,  girls  on 
the  other,  and  it  was  the  lowest  humiliation  to  be  sent, 
for  punishment,  to  sit  on  the  opposite  side. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  Abe  ever  owned  an  arithme- 


42      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

tic  of  his  own  while  he  went  to  school.  He  once 
made  a  notebook  containing  the  tables  for  weights 
and  measures  and  other  simple  formulae  which 
served  him  as  an  arithmetic.  Pages  from  this  crude 
notebook  are  still  in  existence,  and  on  the  page  where 
Abe  had  written  how  many  pints  a  bushel  contains  some 
other  boy  had  scrawled  this  scholarly  legend^: 

"Abraham  Lincoln, 
His  hand  and  pen, 
He  will  be  good 
But  God  knows  when." 

Young  Abraham  through  constant  practice  became 
a  skilled  penman,  the  best  in  the  whole  neighborhood. 
In  an  old  copybook  in  the  possession  of  one  of  the 
younger  boys  who  attended  school  at  that  time  are 
two  lines  which  no  one  then  would  have  considered  a 
prophecy : 

"Good  boys  who  to  their  books  apply 
Will  all  be  great  men  by  and  by." 

Abe,  it  appears,  was  equally  good  in  spelling, — so 
good  in  fact  that  he  often  had  to  be  left  out  of  the 
"spelling  bees"  that  were  features  of  country  school 
days,  because  to  have  Abe  on  one  side  simply  forecast 
that  side's  victory.  He  liked  to  use  his  knowledge  to 
help  out  less  fortunate  comrades  and  on  one  occasion 
saved  them  from  being  kept  in  after  school.  The  word 
given  was  "defied"  and  one  scholar  after  another  fell 
before  it  until  the  stern  school  master  threatened  to 
hold  the  whole  class  after  school  until  the  word  was 
spelled  aright.     Desperately  the  pupils  gave   frantic 


SCHOOL  DAYS  43 

guesses,  "de-f-i-de"  ventured  one,  "de-f-y-de"  offered 
another,  "d-e-f-y-e-d-e"  another  guessed.  At  this  mo- 
ment a  Miss  Roby,  a  young  lady  of  15  years  and  one  of 
the  "big  girls,"  chanced  to  catch  sight  of  Abe's  face 
outside  the  window.  He  grinned  and  pointed  to  his  eye. 
She  quickly  took  the  hint,  changed  the  well  worn  y  to  i; 
saved  the  day  and  released  the  class.  Abe's  humor  and 
helpfulness  made  him  fast  popular  with  his  mates. 
They  liked  to  gather  round  him  at  recess  time  and  listen 
to  him  "preach,"  a  pastime  he  still  practiced,  enjoying  it 
as  much  as  he  used  to  in  his  little-boy  imitation  of  the 
itinerant  preachers  on  Knob  Creek.  He  used  to 
"preach"  at  recess  against  cruelty  to  animals,  for  it 
roused  him  to  wrath  to  see  boys  molest  small  animals., 
and  he  particularly  inveighed  against  the  practice  of 
putting  hot  coals  of  fire  on  terrapins'  backs  to  see 
them  squirm  in  agony  from  their  shells.  While 
"preaching"  hotly  against  this  one  day,  his  stepbrother, 
John,  threw  a  turtle  against  the  tree  under  which  Abe 
was  standing  and  crushed  its  shell  so  that  "it  suffered 
much  and  quivered  all  over."  Whereupon  Abe 
launched  such  invectives  against  cruelty  and  made  such 
a  plea  against  it  that  his  "sermon"  must  indeed  have 
been  "powerful,"  for  the  boys  who  heard  it  never  for- 
got what  he  said.  After  this  Abe  wrote  an  earnest 
composition  on  "Cruelty  to  Animals,"  which  his  old 
friend,  Nat  Grigsby  says,  was  not  demanded  by  the 
teacher  but  one  that  Abe  "took  up  on  his  own  account." 
Abraham  disliked  hunting  and  trapping  animals,  even 
though  the  necessity  for  food  often  forced  him  to  do 
it.  He  gives  the  following  picture  of  himself  as  a  very 
small  and  reluctant  hunter  in  a  strange  autobiography 


44      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

prepared  at  the  request  of  a  friend  in  i860,  and  written 
altogether  in  the  third  person: 

"A  few  days  before  the  completion  of  his  eighth 
year,  in  the  absence  of  his  father,  a  flock  of  wild 
turkeys  approached  the  new  log  cabin,  and  Abraham, 
with  a  rifle  gun,  standing  inside,  shot  through  a  crack 
and  killed  one  of  them.  He  has  never  since  pulled 
trigger  on  any  larger  game!* 

This  attitude  toward  cruelty  was  but  a  foreshadow- 
ing of  the  emotion  he  was  to  feel  years  later  when 
viewing  with  revulsion  the  slave  market  at  New  Or- 
leans. 

School  was  only  an  intermittent  thing  in  the  back- 
woods. Abraham's  attendance,  interrupted  by  the  lack 
of  a  teacher  or  by  his  having  to  work  either  for  his 
father,  or,  in  a  pinch,  at  hire  for  some  neighbor,  was 
very  irregular.  The  years  were  slipping  by,  Abe  was 
no  longer  a  small  pupil  on  a  front  bench,  but  one  of  the 
"big  boys"  himself.  In  the  winter  of  1820  a  Mr. 
Andrew  Crawford  came  to  that  region  to  settle  and  as 
he  was  looked  upon  as  a  man  of  great  culture  he  was 
urged  to  open  the  disused  school. 

"Another  chance  for  you,  Abe,"  said  Lincoln's  step- 
mother, and  insisted  on  sending  him  in  spite  of  Tom's 
grumbling. 

This  Mr.  Crawford,  the  aforementioned  martinet 
of  the  spelling  bee,  introduced  instruction  in  "manners" 
to  the  backwoods  school,  an  innovation  which  reduced 
the  giggling  country  boys  and  girls  sometimes  to  hilar- 
ity and  again  to  painful  embarrassment  as  one  by  one 
they  took  turns  in  entering  the  room  in  polite  fashion, 
being  greeted  by  another  scholar  and  ceremoniously 


SCHOOL  DAYS  45 

presented  in  turn  to  each  of  the  "young  ladies' '  and 
"young  gentlemen"  present,  with  drawing-room  man- 
ners. These  efforts  at  attaining  social  grace  must  have 
been  both  pitiful  and  ludicrous  in  Abraham,  for  he 
was  a  great  gawky  rustic  boy  of  ungainly  proportions. 

At  this  time  he  was  rounding  out  his  fifteenth  year 
of  outdoor,  muscular  life,  and  only  two  years  later  he 
reached  his  full  growth  of  6  ft.  4,  so  that  he  then  was 
a  lanky  powerful  youth,  spindle-shanked,  angular  and 
homely  with  huge,  awkward,  bony  hands  and  feet. 
His  skin,  from  life-long  exposure  to  the  weather,  was 
swarthy  and  shriveled  even  then,  according  to  old  Mrs. 
Gentry  of  Gentry ville  fame.  Thus  far  Abe's  life 
had  been  one  of  continual  hard  manual  labor  with  daily 
use  of  the  ax,  maul,  hoe  and  plow,  until  like  many  a 
country  boy  whose  young  muscles  are  overtaxed  too 
early  by  hard  labor,  he  moved  throughout  his  life  with 
a  certain  stoop  and  stiffness.  Perhaps  one  of  the  most 
subtle  touches  in  George  Billings'  motion  picture  de- 
lineation of  Lincoln  is  the  naturalness  with  which  he 
consistently  depicts  this  deliberate  country-bred  gait  of 
Lincoln's,  never  forgetting  even  in  the  White  House 
scenes  that  stoop  and  slowness  of  knotted  muscles,  stif- 
fened joints  and  the  characteristic  rustic  walk  of  feet 
long  accustomed  to  the  soft  unevenness  of  plowed 
furrows. 

In  his  school  days  Abraham  Lincoln's  appearance 
was  truly  that  of  a  frontiersman.  He  wore  a  coon  skin 
cap  with  its  bushy  dangling  tail,  a  linsey-woolsey  or  else 
a  deerskin  hunting  shirt,  moccasins  and  buckskin 
breeches.  The  breeches  fitted  tightly  to  his  lean  legs, 
but  only  came  half  way  down  his  bare  shins,  and  as  he 


46      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

rarely  had  socks,  these  unprotected  shins  stuck  out 
'  'sharp,  blue  and  narrow."  Nat  Grigsby  said,  "He 
would  always  come  to  school  like  this,  good  humored 
and  laughing.  He  was  always  in  good  health,  never 
was  sick  and  had  an  excellent  constitution.'* 

Abe's  appearance  might  have  handicapped  him  in 
cutting  a  socially  graceful  figure  in  schoolmaster  Craw- 
ford's exercises  in  etiquette,  but  his  good  health  stood 
him  in  good  stead  in  keeping  up  his  studies  at  night 
after  laborious  days  in  cornfield  and  at  plowhandle. 
He  would  come  in  from  work  mentally  alert  and  look- 
ing forward  to  the  enjoyment  of  a  book,  a  pastime 
which  made  his  disgruntled  father  grumble  that  "Abe 
was  too  big  and  strong  for  booklearning."  Many  a 
time  in  anger  Tom  dashed  a  book  from  his  son's  hand 
and  threatened  to  toss  it  into  the  fire.  He  could  not 
break  up  Abe's  habit  and  night  after  night  the  boy 
would  sprawl  on  the  floor  beside  the  fire  lost  in  thought 
as  he  pored  over  some  book,  only  raising  his  head  occa- 
sionally to  toss  on  the  fire  more  resinous  knots  of  fat 
pine,  called  "lightwood,"  which  flared  forth  in  a  bright 
blaze  easy  to  read  by.  From  everything  he  read  Abe 
made  excerpts,  comments  and  memoranda  with  his 
turkey  buzzard  pen  and  blackberry  root  ink  in  home- 
made notebooks.  When  he  had  no  paper  or  ink  he  used 
chalk  or  charcoal  to  write  or  cipher  on  the  walls  or 
floor.  A  wooden  ash  shovel  at  the  hearth  was  his  usual 
slate  and  on  this  he  did  charcoal  sums  until  the  entire 
shovel  was  so  covered  that  he  had  to  shave  it  off  for  a 
fresh  writing  surface.  Here  by  the  hearth  he  would  lie 
and  read  or  write  until  late  and  then  go  to  bed  with 
a  book  stuck  in  the  cracks  between  logs  by  his  bed 


SCHOOL  DAYS  47 

where  he  could  reach  it  by  the  first  streak  of  dawn. 
His  own  store  of  books  was  small,  but  he  borrowed 
others  and  once  told  a  friend  that  he  had  "read  every 
book  he  ever  heard  of  in  that  country  for  a  circuit  of 
50  miles."  He  afterwards  secured  a  history  of  the 
U.  S.  and  a  copy  of  Arabian  Nights  and  Dennis  Hanks 
said  of  the  latter  that  "Abe  would  lay  on  the  floor  with 
a  chair  under  his  head  and  laugh  over  them  stories  by 
the  hour."  For  a  long  time,  however,  he  had  only 
his  mother's  Bible  and  Pilgrim's  Progress,  her  JEsop's 
]Fables  and  Robinson  Crusoe.  These  four  books  he 
knew  by  heart  and  their  clear,  simple,  forceful  diction 
was  ever  after  to  influence  the  language  of  the  man 
whose  speeches,  especially  the  memorable  one  made  at 
Gettysburg,  were  to  become  immortal  prose. 

All  day  long,  wherever  Abe  went,  he  carried  some 
book  in  his  pocket,  and  at  every  spare  moment  he 
snatched  an  opportunity  to  read.  Sometimes  this  was 
under  a  tree  at  noon.  Sometimes  it  was  while  he 
watered  his  horse  or  rested  the  animal  at  the  end  of  a 
long  hard  furrow.  Perched  on  stump,  log  or  fence, 
Abe  had  his  nose  in  a  book  too  often  to  please  his  im- 
patient father  who  believed  he  was  just  "plain  lazy." 
Thomas  Lincoln  did  not  live  to  see  his  son  justified 
by  fame. 

But  if  Tom  did  not  recognize  his  own  boy  as  promis- 
ing, the  neighborhood  did.  Captain  John  Lamar  who 
knew  Abe  in  Gentryville,  recalls  an  incident  of  this 
from  his  boyhood.  Lamar  had  driven  to  the  mill  with 
his  father  when  they  passed  Abe  sitting  on  the  top  rail 
of  a  roadside  worm  fence  so  absorbed  in  a  book  that 
he  took  no  notice  of  the  passing  wagon.    "John,"  said 


48      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

Lamar's  father,  'look  at  that  boy  yonder  and  mark 
my  words  he  will  make  something  of  himself.  I  may 
not  live  to  see  it,  but  you  will  see  if  my  words  don't 
come  true." 


PART   II 

Young  Manhood 

Wealth  is  a  superfluity  of  what  we  don't  need." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

JACK-OF-ALL-TRADES 

Abraham's  schooling,  which  he  says  he  got  "by 
littles,"  hardly  amounted  to  a  year  in  his  whole  life.  It 
was  over  and  he  was  put  to  work  in  earnest  by  the  time 
he  was  fifteen. 

If  Lincoln  could  return  to-day,  surely  nothing  would 
be  nearer  his  heart  than  the  public  school  system  which 
now  offers  free  to  every  boy  in  the  country  the  books 
and  opportunities  which  he  was  denied. 

His  schoolroom  days  over,  Abe  "hired  out"  at  vari- 
ous odd  jobs,  now  turning  his  hand  to  one  thing,  now 
to  another,  seeming  to  make  little  headway  in  his  prom- 
ise of  "amounting  to  something."  It  was  years  before 
he  really  found  himself. 

The  first  job  at  which  Abe  was  employed  away  from 
home  was  as  "hired  man"  for  a  well-to-do  farmer, 
Josiah  Crawford,  near  Gentry ville  in  1824.  Abe  did 
not  like  Crawford — "Old  Blue  Nose,"  as  he  was  ir- 
reverently called — but  there  were  three  things  which 
recompensed  him  for  his  menial  position  in  this 
family.  The  first  was  that  he  was  in  company  here 
with  his  sister  who  was  serving  as  maid  of  all  work. 
The  second  was  the  fact  that  he  held  a  strong  attach- 
ment for  Mrs.  Crawford  who  took  a  motherly  interest 
in  both  Abe  and  his  sister  and  encouraged  them  in  every 
way  with  her  cheery  conversation.    He  liked  to  "hang 

51 


52       THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

about"  in  the  kitchen  after  meals  and  joke  and  gossip 
with  Mrs.  Crawford  and  his  sister  and  would  reluc- 
tantly break  away  to  return  to  work  with  the  exclama- 
tion, "Well,  this  won't  buy  the  child  a  coat!"  Mrs. 
Crawford  did  much  to  brighten  the  days  for  her  hired 
help  with  her  love  of  fun  and  genuine  interest  in  their 
welfare.  She  says  that  Abe  was  "sensitive  about  com- 
ing around  where  he  thought  he  wasn't  wanted"  and 
that  he  was  "tender  and  kind  like  his  sister." 

He  enjoyed  the  Crawfords'  books,  and  Mrs.  Craw- 
ford testifies  that  from  her  Kentucky  Preceptor  he 
memorized  many  "pieces  to  speak."  These  books 
formed  the  third  feature  which  reconciled  Abe  to  his 
stay  in  the  Crawford  household,  and  as  Mrs.  Crawford 
was  generous  in  lending  them,  Abe  always  had  a  book 
to  carry  up  to  read  in  bed  at  night.  Sometimes  he 
would  sit  in  the  twilight  reading  the  dictionary  until  it 
grew  too  dark  to  see.  The  year  at  Crawford's  passed 
quickly  for  him. 

The  following  year  when  he  was  sixteen,  Abe  was 
employed  at  $6  a  month  and  "keep"  by  a  certain  James 
Taylor  who  ran  a  ferry  across  the  Ohio  River  near 
Troy  at  about  the  spot  where  years  before  Thomas  and 
Nancy  Lincoln  with  two  children  and  two  pack  horses 
crossed  to  try  their  fortunes  in  Indiana.  At  Taylor's 
Abe  acted  not  only  as  man-of -all-work,  but  as  maid-of- 
all-work  as  well.  Here  he  started  his  working  day 
before  dawn :  fed  stock,  milked,  drew  water,  built  fires, 
started  the  kettle  boiling  and  swept  up  before  Mrs. 
Taylor  was  out  of  bed.  He  helped  her  with  her  heavier 
work,  drawing  great  wooden  tubs  of  water  for  wash 
day,  grinding  corn,  killing  chickens  and  the  like  and 


JACK-OF-ALL-TRADES  53 

was  then  released  for  farm  work  where  he  acted  as 
stable  boy,  plowman  and  ferryman  besides.  It  was 
on  the  ferry  that  Abe  found  leisure  enough  for  the 
reading  that  made  this  position  at  all  endurable.  Tay- 
lor owned  some  shelves  of  books  and  in  order  to  get 
these  all  read  Abe  used  to  sit  up  devouring  them  until 
midnight  night  after  night  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he 
had  to  rise  by  four  o'clock.  He  shared  an  attic  room 
with  the  son  of  the  family,  Green  Taylor,  and  perhaps 
Abe's  habit  of  keeping  a  light  burning  late  accounts 
for  the  fact  that  Green  was  thoroughly  ill  disposed 
toward  Abe. 

From  ferrying  Abe  turned  his  hand  to  butchering, 
for  being  asked  one  day  whether  he  could  kill  a  hog 
he  replied  that  he  didn't  know  as  he  had  never  tried, 
but  added,  "If  you  will  risk  the  hog,  I'll  risk  myself  I" 
He  proved  successful  as  slaughterer  and  added  this  to 
his  accomplishments  as  jack-of -all-trades.  After  this 
Taylor  used  to  sub-let  him  at  30  cents  a  day  to  other 
farmers  at ' 'hog-killing  time,"  with  a  remark  that  gives 
us  an  insight  into  Lincoln's  adaptability:  "Abe'll  do 
one  thing  about  as  well  as  another." 

Although  Abe  gained  a  useful  reputation  as  being  a 
"good  hand"  at  any  sort  of  labor,  it  cannot  truthfully 
be  said  that  he  loved  work.  His  chief  delight  was  to 
lie  on  his  back  under  some  tree  with  his  feet  cocked 
high  up  on  the  trunk,  a  book  in  his  hands,  lost  to  the 
world.  He  went  about  a  good  deal  of  the  time  absent- 
minded,  sunk  in  meditation  and  a  studious  abstraction 
that  made  some  of  his  neighbors,  who  failed  to  realize 
his  continual  mental  activity,  believe,  like  his  father, 
that  he  was  lazy.    John  Romine,  a  neighbor,  was  one 


54      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

of  these,  and  Mr.  William  Herndon,  who  so  painstak- 
ingly interviewed  in  person  every  one  he  could  find 
who  knew  Lincoln,  reports  this  farmer  as  saying: 
"Abe  worked  for  me  but  was  always  reading  and 
thinking.  I  used  to  get  mad  at  him  for  it.  I  say  he 
was  awful  lazy.  He  would  laugh  and  talk, — crack 
his  jokes  and  tell  stories  all  the  time, — didn't  love 
work  half  as  much  as  his  pay.  He  said  to  me  one 
day  that  his  father  taught  him  to  work,  but  never 
taught  him  to  love  it." 

Abe  Lincoln  was  well  liked  among  his  neighbors,  for 
his  upright  character  made  him  trusted  and  his  good 
humor  and  unfailing  fund  of  droll  stories  made  him 
such  "good  company"  that  he  was  hailed  with  hearty 
welcome  wherever  he  went.  In  fact,  his  employers 
sometimes  complained  that  he  wasted  his  own  and 
other  workers'  time  with  story  telling,  "speech-making" 
and  hilarity,  but  he  made  up  for  this  when  he  did  turn 
to,  by  using  his  enormous  strength  with  an  ease  and  ef- 
fectiveness that  accomplished  as  much  as  three  men. 
Dennis  Hanks  said,  "My,  how  he  would  chop!  His  ax 
would  flash  and  bite  into  a  sugar  tree  or  sycamore  and 
down  it  would  come.  If  you  heard  him  felling  trees  in 
a  clearing  you  would  say  there  was  three  men  at  work 
by  the  way  the  trees  fell."  Abe's  strength  by  the  time 
he  had  reached  his  growth  was  proverbial  throughout 
the  countryside  and  always  kept  him  in  demand  where, 
there  was  hard  labor  to  be  done.  Richardson,  the 
neighbor  who  as  a  little  schoolboy  had  asked  Abe  to 
set  him  a  copy  of  penmanship,  tells  some  amazing 
feats  of  strength  that  Lincoln  accomplished.  He  says 
one  day  he  saw  Abe  pick  up  and  walk  off  with  a  hen 


JACK-OF-ALL-TRADES  55 

house  made  of  slim  logs  doweled  together  and  roofed 
which  "must  have  weighed  at  least  six  hundred  pounds 
if  not  more."  "He  could  strike  with  a  maul/'  says 
old  Mr.  Wood,  "a  heavier  blow  than  any  man,  and  he 
could  sink  an  ax  deeper  into  wood  than  any  man  I  ever 
saw." 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  Lincoln's  life  was  made 
up  only  of  hard  physical  labor  and  mental  concentra- 
tion. No  picture  of  Lincoln's  youth  would  be  com- 
plete that  failed  to  give  some  idea  of  his  hours  of  rec- 
reation. The  sports  and  amusements  which  he  enjoyed 
were  typical  of  the  pastimes  of  young  people  in  those 
days  and  did  much  to  develop  in  Lincoln  the  qualities 
of  good  fellowship  which  characterized  him  and  made 
him  a  general  favorite. 

Although  Lincoln  was  too  tender-hearted  to  enjoy 
gunning  for  mere  sportsmanship,  he  did  enjoy  follow- 
ing the  dogs  at  night  on  coon  or  possum  hunts  by  the 
light  of  flaring  torches,  and  there  were  other  evenings 
spent  fishing  in  Pigeon  Creek  or  with  a  crowd  of  boys 
in  the  "old  swimming  hole."  Lincoln  enjoyed  chiefly 
the  sports  and  gatherings  which  brought  people  to- 
gether in  social  merriment, — his  reaction  perhaps,  to 
much  solitude.  At  running,  jumping  and  "wrastlin'  " 
he  excelled  and  he  rarely  missed  an  opportunity  to  at- 
tend a  fox  chase  or  county  horse  race.  Lincoln  was 
not  limited  to  those  gatherings  alone  where  men  met 
for  rougher  pastimes.  He  enjoyed  taking  the  young 
girls  of  the  neighborhood  to  spelling  school  or  to 
meeting. 

"Meeting"  in  itself  was  a  social  event,  and  when  a 
traveling  preacher  came  around  whole  families  packed 


56      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

up  to  ride  ten  or  twelve  miles  to  church.  Sometimes 
they  rode  in  straw-filled  wagons,  the  children  squatting 
on  sheepskins  in  the  straw,  the  old  ladies  seated  in  split- 
bottomed  chairs  holding  lunch  baskets  on  their  laps. 
Boys  and  young  men  followed  on  mule  or  horse- 
back and  many  a  woman  rode  to  church  on  a  pillion 
behind  her  husband's  or  sweetheart's  saddle.  The  lit- 
tle log  church  in  the  grove  of  giant  trees  would  ring 
with  the  preacher's  shouting  and  the  congregation's 
lusty,  rustic  hymns.  Children  too  small  to  sit  in  a 
hard  pew  without  wriggling  through  hours  of  vocifer- 
ous sermon,  amused  themselves  outside  among  the 
hitched  teams  and  saddle  horses,  playing  with  the  dogs, 
until  it  was  time  for  preaching  to  let  out,  and  dinner 
to  be  spread.  When  this  seemed  too  delayed  they 
were  quieted  with  a  chicken  bone  or  cold  sweet 
potato. 

During  week  days,  Lincoln,  like  other  country 
youths,  drifted  to  that  social  center,  the  country  store, 
in  Gentryville.  One  attraction  here  for  Abe  was  the 
fact  that  Mr.  Jones,  the  storekeeper,  took  a  newspaper 
and  Lincoln  lost  no  opportunity  to  get  his  hands  on 
every  copy.  It  was  the  custom  of  all  the  men  and  boys 
in  the  neighborhood  to  gather  at  this  store,  read  the 
paper  and  hotly  discuss  its  politics.  Here  Lincoln  first 
indulged  in  political  debate.  The  country  store  with 
its  flour-barrel  oratory  has  ever  been  a  factor  in  shap- 
ing political  opinion  throughout  America,  and  this 
particular  store,  where  Abraham  Lincoln  himself  first 
held  forth,  was  doubtless  like  countless  others, — a 
squat  little  one-roomed,  A-roofed  building,  standing  at 
a  cross-roads.    Here  mail  was  received  and  distributed, 


JACK-OF-ALL-TRADES  57 

and  groceries,  clothing  and  tools  traded  for  eggs  and 
other  commodities.  This  store,  together  with  a  mill, 
smithy,  schoolhouse,  church  and  a  few  farmhouses 
comprised  the  Gentryville  that  was  originally  only  the 
clearing  and  cabin  of  one  enterprising  Mr.  Gentry. 

At  this  store  men  gathered  at  mail  time,  awaiting  the 
horseback  approach  of  the  mail  rider  with  his  saddle- 
bags and  the  momentous  weekly  newspaper.  Two 
counters  reached  down  the  sides  of  the  store,  and 
shelved  behind  them  were  bolts  of  colored  calico ;  boxes 
of  needles;  pins;  spun  yarn  and  wool  for  spinning; 
homemade  cheeses;  jackknives;  axheads  and  handles; 
hair  pins ;  plow  points ;  tobacco ;  rifles  and  ammunition ; 
beads  and  trinkets. 

From  the  rafters  hung  smoked  meats ;  plow  handles ; 
tanned  hides ;  herbs ;  seeds ;  rakes ;  water  buckets ;  raw- 
hide whips ;  saddles ;  harness ;  coats  and  men's  hats.  In 
the  space  between  the  counters  and  before  the  open 
fireplace  which  occupied  the  rear  end  of  the  store,  were 
disposed  crates  of  live  chickens  and  barrels  of  flour, 
sugar,  salt,  corn  meal,  cider,  molasses  and  whiskey,  all 
of  which  afforded  seats  where  the  debaters  could  sit, 
drum  their  heels,  spit  into  the  fireplace  and  air  their 
shrewd  common  sense  on  questions  of  the  day.  Though 
these  farmers  were  isolated  from  any  city  and  were 
far  from  Capitol  and  White  House,  no  problem  of  the 
country's  welfare  escaped  their  vital  comment.  Even 
at  this  early  date,  Abraham  Lincoln,  his  legs  dangling 
from  the  store  counter,  held  forth  on  slavery  which  was 
becoming  a  burning  question  for  the  nation  even  then 
and  was  warmly  argued  upon  in  the  free  state  of  In- 
diana. 


58       THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

It  was  not  long  before  Lincoln  attained  a  local  repu- 
tation at  debate,  "speech-making"  and  "saying  pieces." 
He  could  reel  off  from  memory  all  the  poems  and 
speeches  of  his  school  readers,  and  as  of  old,  enjoyed 
imitating  itinerant  preachers,  to  the  huge  delight  of  his 
fellows.  Added  to  these  accomplishments  he  now  ac- 
quired no  small  skill  in  making  political  speeches  which 
would  always  draw  a  crowd  and  applause.  This  sort 
of  thing  he  enjoyed  too  much  to  suit  his  father  or  his 
employers,  who  did  not  recognize  the  humble  beginning 
of  a  power  in  speech-making  that  was  later  to  stir  the 
nation. 

Abe's  interest  in  speech-making  had  often  drawn  him 
to  the  court  house  where  he  listened  absorbed  to  the 
lawyers'  appeals, — the  only  public  speeches  he  had  ever 
heard  beside  country  sermons.  This  was  his  introduc- 
tion to  the  practice  of  law,  which  afterwards  became 
his  own  profession.  On  one  such  occasion  Abe  had 
walked  fifteen  miles  to  the  Boonville  court  house  to 
attend  a  trial  for  murder.  The  defense  had  secured 
John  Breckenridge,  a  lawyer  of  exceptional  ability, 
and  when  this  man  rose  to  speak  Abe  heard  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life  a  truly  cultured  man  deliver  a 
sound  argument  with  real  eloquence.  Abe  was  so  im- 
pressed that  he  dashed  up  after  the  trial  and  enthusias- 
tically congratulated  the  speaker.  Mr.  Breckenridge 
was  a  cold,  haughty  man,  of  small-bore  caliber,  and 
offended  at  what  he  deemed  presumption  on  the  part  of 
a  country  bumpkin,  he  brushed  the  enthusiastic,  gawky 
boy  aside  without  a  word. 

Interested  in  law  perhaps  through  this  contact  with 
the  court,  Abe  soon  found  an  opportunity  to  read  his 


JACK-OF-ALL-TRADES  59 

first  law  book.  Dave  Turnham,  the  town  constable, 
possessed  a  copy  of  the  "Revised  Statutes  of  Indiana," 
and  although  he  would  not  lend  this  volume,  being 
firm  in  the  belief  that  a  constable  should  always  have  it 
on  hand,  he  permitted  Abe  to  come  to  his  house  and 
read  these  laws  as  much  as  he  liked.  The  boy  spent 
hours  poring  over  them.  Abraham  Lincoln  in  this 
haphazard  fashion  began  reading  law  long  before  he 
realized  that  his  tastes  were  to  point  that  way. 

A  foreshadowing  of  his  own  power  seemed  to  form 
at  least  dimly  in  Lincoln's  own  mind  during  this  youth- 
ful period.  One  book,  which  up  to  this  point  in  his 
life  had  done  more  than  any  other  to  kindle  his  ambi- 
tion, was  a  copy  of  Weem's  Life  of  Washington, 
which  he  borrowed  from  Josiah  Crawford  and  took 
home  to  read.  As  usual  he  took  the  book  to  bed 
and  stuck  it  in  a  crack  between  the  logs  by  his  bed  when 
he  went  to  sleep.  It  rained  during  the  night,  and  the 
water,  soaking  through  the  clay  daubing  between  the 
logs,  stained  the  pages  and  ruined  the  binding.  To 
Abraham,  this  book  with  its  inspiring  story  of.  a  hero's 
life,  seemed  an  invaluable  volume  and  he  feared  that 
he  could  never  afford  to  pay  for  it.  With  sinking 
heart  he  went  to  Mr.  Crawford  and  asked  how  he  could 
"work  out"  payment.  To  the  credit  of  "Old  Blue 
Nose"  be  it  said  that  he  replied  good-naturedly, 
"Being  as  it's  you,  Abe,  I  won't  be  too  hard  on  you. 
Come  over  and  shuck  corn  for  three  days  and  the 
book's  yours." 

The  surprise  and  relief  of  these  easy  terms  coupled 
with  actual  ownership  of  the  treasured  volume  besides 
so  delighted  Abe's  heart  that  he  felt  as  if  he  were  re- 


60      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

ceiving  a  handsome  present.  To  own  this  biography- 
meant  far  more  in  Lincoln's  life  than  Crawford  could 
ever  suppose.  It  was  after  reading  this  book  that  Abe 
used  to  tell  the  Craw  fords  that  he  did  not  intend  to 
shuck  corn  and  split  rails  all  his  life.  When  Mrs. 
Crawford  used  to  ask  him  what  he  intended  to  be  when 
he  grew  up,  he  always  answered  half  soberly,  "I  think 
I'll  be  President."  "Oh,  yes!"  Mrs.  Crawford  would 
laugh,  "You'd  make  a  fine  president,  wouldn't  you, 
with  your  long  legs  and  your  tricks  and  jokes!"  And 
Abe  would  answer,  "Oh,  I'll  study  and  be  ready  and  the 
chance  will  come." 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  RAILSPLITTER 

In  the  autumn  of  1830,  Thomas  Lincoln  startled  his 
family  by  announcing  that  he  had  made  up  his  mind 
to  pack  up  and  move  to  Illinois.  Life  on  Pigeon  Creek, 
he  complained,  was  nothing  but  hard  work  and  "slim 
pickin's,"  and  John  Hanks,  a  relative  who  had  gone 
from  Kentucky  to  settle  near  Decatur  in  Macon  County, 
Illinois,  kept  sending  back  word  of  the  promising  land 
and  prospects  he  found  there  and  urging  the  Lincolns 
to  join  him.  John  Hanks  was  a  substantial,  steady- 
going  member  of  the  family  and  his  word  carried 
weight.  Tom  Lincoln,  always  too  ready  to  move,  was 
easily  persuaded  that  life  would  surely  be  easier  in 
Illinois  and  accordingly  as  soon  as  his  crops  were 
harvested  and  his  hogs  fattened,  he  transferred  his 
land  to  old  Mr.  Gentry,  sold  his  corn  and  pigs  and  once 
more  packed  up  his  household  goods  and  proceeded  to 
migrate. 

Before  leaving  the  old  Pigeon  Creek  cabin,  Abe 
lingered  in  farewell  beside  his  mother's  grave  on  the 
little  knoll  beside  the  graves  of  those  other  stout- 
hearted pioneers,  Thomas  and  Betsy  Sparrow.  He  re- 
called that  other  migration  when  he  was  little  and  re- 
membered his  mother's  grief -stricken  farewell  on  Knob 
Creek  at  the  baby's  grave  now  lost  in  forest  under- 
brush.    Abraham  had  fenced  in  his  mother's  grave 

from  encroaching  growth  and  wandering  wild  animals, 

61 


62      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

and  as  he  now  outlined  the  mound  with  smooth  stones 
he  pondered  on  how  much  he  had  to  remember  in 
leaving  Pigeon  Creek. 

There  was  another  grave  for  Abraham  to  visit  before 
he  left,  not  beside  his  mother's,  but  in  the  little  bury- 
ing  ground  of  the  old  Pigeon  Creek  meeting  house. 
Here  lay  his  sister  Sarah,  who  had  married  Aaron 
Grigsby  a  few  years  before,  and  died  scarcely  a  year 
later  in  childbirth.  Pioneer  life  was  cruel  to  women 
and  babies  in  those  days,  and  many  a  needless  death 
brought  grief  to  isolated  settlers.  Abraham  and  his 
only  sister  were  bound  to  one  another  by  the  special 
ties  that  rise  from  early  hardships,  joys  and  sorrows 
shared  and  from  mutual  memories  that  no  one  else 
can  know.  It  was  with  lonely  heart  that  Abraham  left 
behind  this  sole  companion  of  those  childhood  days 
that  Nancy  Lincoln  had  hallowed. 

The  anniversary  of  the  memorable  blizzard  came 
around  before  the  emigrating  party  started,  and  so 
Abraham  reached  twenty-one  and  left  Pigeon  Creek 
and  boyhood  behind  him. 

This  time  the  emigrating  family  traveled  in  a 
covered  wagon  hauled  by  four  slow  oxen.  Tom  and 
Abraham  with  Sally  and  Sally's  son  John,  climbed  into 
this  wagon  that  contained  all  their  possessions  includ- 
ing Abe's  books,  Sally's  precious  forty-dollar  bureau, 
Tom's  tools  and  John's  guns.  The  rest  of  the  family 
followed  on  behind  in  other  steer  carts.  These  carried 
the  household  goods  of  Sally's  two  daughters,  now 
married,  and  were  driven  by  their  husbands,  a  Mr.  Hall 
and  our  old  friend  Dennis  Hanks.  Each  was  equipped 
with  a  crude  outfit  to  camp  out  along  the  way.     The 


THE  RAILSPLITTER  63 

season  was  bitterly  uncomfortable  for  outdoor  camp- 
ing, as  winter  had  fairly  set  in  before  they  started,  but 
the  trip  had  to  be  made  then  in  order  to  reach  the  new 
farm  in  time  for  housebuilding  before  early  plowing 
and  planting. 

The  ground  was  stiff  with  frost  and  during  the  chill 
mornings  and  sharp  evenings  the  clumsy  carts  bumped 
heavily  over  frozen  ruts  while  in  the  middle  of  the 
day  a  little  thaw  made  the  mud  sticky  enough  for  hard 
pulling.  There  were  no  bridges  and  the  teams  had  to 
be  sharply  goaded  into  the  icy  water  to  ford  each 
stream  where  thin  sheets  of  ice  crashed  under  hoof  and 
wheel  like  shattered  glass.  Following  along  after  the 
wagons  trotted  a  little  pet  dog,  which  indulged  in 
frisky  excusions  after  roadside  rabbits  and  one  day 
was  left  behind  when  the  wagons  forded  a  swollen 
stream.  His  sharp  barks  from  the  opposite  bank  drew 
the  family's  attention,  and  there  stood  the  little  fellow 
frantic  at  being  left  behind  but  afraid  to  venture  on 
the  broken  ice  that  was  now  floating  half  submerged  in 
rushing  water.  It  was  far  too  great  an  undertaking 
to  turn  about  the  steers  and  drive  back  through  the 
stream  to  get  the  dog  and  so  it  was  decided  to  leave 
him  lucklessly  behind.  They  had  not  gone  far,  how- 
ever, before  Abraham's  conscience  troubled  him  and 
he  sprang  down  over  the  wheels  and  ran  back.  Strip- 
ping off  his  shoes  and  rolling  up  his  breeches,  he 
plunged  into  the  icy  water  and  waded  back  to  the  bank 
where  the  pet  dog  with  quick  tongue,  shrill  whines  and 
thumping  tail  kept  up  ecstatic  demonstrations  of  grati- 
tude as  Abe  waded  back  to  shore  with  the  shivering  dog 
under  his  arm. 


64      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

The  oxen  swung  along  so  slowly  that  it  was  easy  to 
linger  behind  the  teams  and  then  overtake  them.  In 
this  way  Abe  succeeded  in  doing  a  fair  peddling  busi- 
ness along  the  way  by  running  up  to  the  scattered  farm 
houses  they  passed.  Before  leaving  Gentry ville  Abe 
had  invested  all  his  hoarded  capital,  some  thirty  dollars, 
in  stocking  up  with  such  commodities  as  he  well  knew 
the  isolated  farmers'  wives  along  the  way  would  be  only 
too  glad  to  buy,  as  some  of  these  homes  were  a  day's 
journey  on  horseback  from  even  the  smallest  country 
store.  Many  a  farmer's  wife  welcomed  the  diversion 
of  looking  through  the  pack  he  brought  to  her  door 
and  was  glad  of  the  convenience  of  purchasing  much 
needed  buttons,  needles  and  thread.  The  most  ambi- 
tious article  in  his  pack  was  a  set  of  table  knives  and 
forks.  Whether  these  went  to  enrich  some  country 
bride  and  groom  or  to  brighten  the  crude  table  in  the 
log  cabin  of  some  large,  poor  family  is  not  recorded, 
but  the  story  of  what  became  of  them  cannot  fail  to  ap- 
peal to  the  imagination  of  those  who  sympathized  with 
the  delight  Sally's  set  had  brought  to  Abraham  and 
little  Sarah  years  ago. 

Abe  had  invested  his  money  for  these  supplies  at 
Jones'  store  where  he  had  spent  so  many  pleasant 
hours  in  joking  and  debate,  where  he  had  gained  a 
reputation  as  backwoods  orator  and  where  he  had 
clerked  during  his  last  winter  in  Indiana.  The  men 
who  used  to  gather  at  the  store  were  heartily  sorry  to 
have  him  go  and  to  some  of  these  he  wrote  back  about 
his  trip,  telling  that  he  had  more  than  doubled  his 
money  in  peddling.  The  only  clew  we  have  to-day  of 
the  route  the  migrating  family  took,  is  through  these 


THE  RAILSPLITTER  65 

letters  of  Abe's,  one  of  which  mentions  that  they 
passed  through  Vincennes  where  he  saw  his  first  print- 
ing press,  and  through  Palestine  where  he  saw  a  magi- 
cian do  sleight-of-hand  tricks.  For  two  weeks  the 
family  dragged  their  slow  way  through  wilderness 
roads  in  the  dead  of  winter  until  at  last  they  came  out 
at  John  Hanks'  place  near  Decatur,  on  the  north 
fork  of  the  Sangamon  River.  Hanks  met  them  with 
the  warmest  welcome  which  must  have  cheered  the 
women  especially  after  their  cold  and  wearying  trip. 
The  foresighted  Hanks  had  picked  out  a  location 
for  them  a  few  miles  from  his  own  and  had  even  cut 
logs  ready  for  their  house.  There  were  enough  men  in 
their  own  party,  counting  Tom,  Dennis,  Abraham, 
John,  Mr.  Hall  and  Hanks,  to  erect  a  log  house  with- 
out calling  on  their  neighbors  for  help,  as  was  custom- 
ary. With  the  family  housed,  there  remained  only  one 
more  piece  of  work  for  Abraham  to  do  for  his  father 
before  he  left  home  to  strike  out  for  himself.  This 
was  to  plow  fifteen  acres  of  land  which,  with  the 
help  of  John  Hanks,  he  then  fenced  in  with  rails  split 
from  "the  forest  primeval."  They  little  dreamed  as 
they  split  these  historic  rails  that  one  day  John  Hanks 
would  appear  with  two  of  these  very  rails  on  his 
shoulder  at  the  Republican  State  Convention  and  turn 
the  tide  for  "Abraham  Lincoln  as  first  choice  of  the 
Republican  Party  of  Illinois  for  the  Presidency  1" 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   TRIP   TO    NEW    ORLEANS 

In  plowing  and  fencing  the  new  farm  on  Sanga- 
mon River,  Abe  did  his  last  work  for  his  father  and 
now  assumed  the  independence  of  his  twenty-one  years 
by  leaving  home  to  shift  for  himself. 

He  left  home  knowing  no  trade  and  taking  nothing 
but  the  disreputable  clothes  on  his  back.  His  good 
health,  great  strength,  studious  nature  and  the  ability 
to  make  himself  popular,  comprised  the  only  capital 
with  which  he  faced  the  world  in  1830.  Two  years 
later  he  was  nominated  for  the  State  Legislature. 

For  a  time  he  drifted,  taking  any  odd  job  that 
would  bring  him  three  meals  a  day,  a  bed  at  night  and 
an  occasional  suit  of  clothes.  He  served  as  farm 
hand,  plowman,  lumberer  or  flatboatman,  and  rail- 
splitting  was  one  of  his  chief  occupations.  John  Hanks 
says  "he  made  3000  rails  for  Major  Warnick"  walking 
six  miles,  back  and  forth  from  work,  every  day. 
Money  was  scarce  among  the  settlers  and  on  one  occa- 
sion he  was  paid  for  his  woodchopping  in  homespun 
for  clothing.  According  to  the  bargain,  Abe  was  to 
receive  a  yard  of  brown  walnut-dyed  jeans  for  every 
400  rails.  As  Abe  measured  six  feet  four,  considerable 
fencing  went  to  pay  for  his  homespun  and  homemade 
coat  and  trousers. 

During  this  time  Abe  continued  his  enthusiasm  for 

speech-making  and  often  when  alone  in  the  woods 

66 


THE  TRIP  TO  NEW  ORLEANS  67 

would  mount  a  fallen  log  and  make  a  stirring  address 
with  only  trees  and  squirrels  as  audience.  Had  any 
one  caught  him  at  his  solitary  practice  he  would  surely 
have  been  branded  "queer."  It  was  not  long,  however, 
before  he  had  the  opportunity  of  making  a  triumphant 
speech  in  public.  Good  old  John  Hanks  tells  of  it  in 
his  own  words  in  this  way: 

"After  Abe  got  to  Decatur,  or  rather  to  Macon 
County,  a  man  by  the  name  of  Posey  came  into  our 
neighborhood  and  made  a  speech.  It  was  a  bad  one, 
and  I  said  Abe  could  beat  it.  I  turned  down  a  box  and 
Abe  made  his  speech  on  it.  Abe  beat  him  to  death,  his 
subject  being  the  navigation  of  the  Sangamon  River. 
The  man,  after  Abe's  speech  was  through,  took  him 
aside  and  asked  him  where  he  had  learned  so  much  and 
how  he  could  do  so  well.  Abe  replied,  stating  his  man- 
ner and  method  of  reading,  and  what  he  had  read.  The 
man  encouraged  him  to  persevere." 

We  can  only  conjecture,  from  the  similarity  in 
names,  that  this  was  the  man  Posey  with  whom  Tom 
Lincoln  had  stored  his  tools  and  whiskey  on  his  first 
exploring  trip  to  Indiana,  the  Posey  who  first  saw  Lin- 
coln as  a  little  black-haired  boy  in  buckskin  breeches 
and  coonskin  cap,  leading  a  tired  pack  horse. 

As  encouraged  by  the  proud  Hanks  and  magnani- 
mous Posey,  Lincoln  continued  speech-making,  at  any 
rate  in  private,  gaining  in  power  that  was  shortly  to 
bring  campaign  success.  And  so,  with  speech-making 
and  railsplitting  passed  1830,  the  first  year  of  his  inde- 
pendence. Then  came  an  incident  which  was  to  exert 
a  far-reaching  influence  that  flowered  finally  in  the 
Emancipation  Proclamation. 


68      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

While  the  Sangamon  River  was  still  swollen  with 
the  March  thaws  and  freshets  of  183 1  there  appeared 
upon  the  scene  a  man  who  was  "destined  to  exert  no 
small  influence  in  shaping  Lincoln's  fortunes."  This 
was  one  Daniel  Offutt,  whose  business  ventures  ex- 
tended up  and  down  the  Sangamon  with  varying  suc- 
cess. 

At  this  time  he  was  preparing  a  shipment  to  be  sent 
to  New  Orleans,  and  having  heard  of  John  Hanks' 
reputation  as  a  skillful  boatman  in  Kentucky  he  came 
down  the  Sangamon  to  engage  Hanks  for  the  trip. 
John  Hanks  tells  of  this  himself,  as  follows : 

"He  wanted  me  to  go  badly,  but  I  waited  awhile 
before  answering.  I  hunted  up  Abe  and  I  introduced 
him  and  his  stepbrother,  John,  to  Offutt.  After  some 
talk  we  at  last  made  an  engagement  with  Offutt  at 
fifty  cents  a  day  and  sixty  dollars,  to  make  the  trip  to 
New  Orleans.  Abe  and  I  came  down  the  Sangamon 
River  in  a  canoe  in  March,  1831,  landed  at  what  is 
now  called  Jamestown,  five  miles  east  of  Springfield, 
then  known  as  Judy's  Ferry." 

Here  they  were  met  by  John  and  the  three  walked 
over  to  Springfield  to  join  Offutt  whom  they  found  at 
the  Tavern  indulging  in  a  little  too  much  "good  cheer." 
It  had  been  agreed  that  Offutt  should  have  a  boat 
ready  and  waiting  for  them  at  the  mouth  of  Spring 
Creek,  but  Offutt  was  a  convivial  soul  who  squandered 
too  many  days  in  good  company  at  the  Tavern,  and  he 
met  them  now  with  warm  welcome,  bloodshot  eye  and 
profusest  apologies  for  his  failure  to  provide  any 
boat.  Hanks,  John  and  Abe  thereupon  agreed  to  build 
a  boat  themselves. 


THE  TRIP  TO  NEW  ORLEANS  69 

They  started  in  to  build  this  at  a  place  called  Sanga- 
montown,  a  town  no  longer  on  the  map,  but  at  that 
time  a  settlement  of  some  importance  so  that  the  repu- 
tation for  wit,  courage  and  popularity  which  Abe 
gained  during  his  boatbuilding  stay  there  was  passed 
about  until  wide-spread.  It  took  a  month  to  build  the 
flat  boat  and  during  that  time  Abe  became  a  village 
favorite  with  his  jokes,  story-telling,  good  fellowship 
and  courage.  An  exhibition  of  his  quick  wit,  strength 
and  courage  came  as  a  climax  to  his  popularity  just 
before  he  left  for  New  Orleans. 

This  happened  in  the  spring  following  "the  winter 
of  the  big  snow,"  an  ever-to-be-talked-of  snowstorm 
in  which  men  and  cattle  perished  on  the  prairies  and 
women  starved  to  death  in  isolated  cabins  half  buried 
in  the  blizzard.  The  river  was  high  and  roaring  with 
these  melted  drifts,  when  two  boys  who  were  helping 
in  the  boatbuilding,  ventured  to  float  downstream  on  a 
small  log  "dug-out."  The  current  swept  them  down 
like  a  mill  race,  capsized  the  crude  canoe,  and  the  boys, 
caught  in  the  icy  torrent,  were  washed  into  the  brittle 
branches  of  an  old  elm  tree  that  lay  in  the  middle  of 
the  stream.  Another  boy  from  the  bank  ventured  a 
rescue  but,  falling  into  the  water,  barely  succeeded  in 
maintaining  a  perch  beside  the  other  victims  in  the 
tree.  The  excitement  of  this  peril  brought  nearly  the 
whole  population  of  the  village  to  gather  on  the  bank 
and  to  shout  frantic  and  conflicting  advice.  It  was  Lin- 
coln who  effected  a  rescue  of  all  three  boys  by  tying  a 
rope  to  a  log  and  while  men  on  shore  held  the  rope,  he 
straddled  the  log,  floated  down  stream,  guiding  his  log 
directly  into  the  tree.     From  there,  amid  shouts  of 


70      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

applause  from  the  crowd  on  the  bank,  he  succeeded  in 
having  the  men  on  shore  haul  the  boys  to  safety  upon 
his  improvised  life  preserver. 

It  may  be  left  to  guess  whether  or  not  the  men  who 
cheered  his  prowess  that  day  later  cast  their  votes  for 
Abraham  Lincoln. 

When  the  flatboat  was  finally  finished,  it  was  hardly 
more  than  a  rough  raft,  but  it  served  to  float  its  cargo 
of  live  hogs,  corn,  and  barrels  of  pork.  With  this, 
the  genial  Offutt  and  his  whiskey  flask  on  board,  Abe, 
Hanks  and  John  manned  the  oars  and  poles  and  swung 
the  boat  out  into  current  and  downstream.  They  were 
halted  at  New  Salem,  a  place  that  was  to  play  a  lead- 
ing part  in  Lincoln's  destiny.  Here  fate  played  her  hand 
in  Lincoln's  future,  for  the  flatboat  stranded  and  hung 
for  a  night  and  a  day  over  the  mill  dam  of  a  certain 
James  Rutledge,  one  of  New  Salem's  founders.  Long, 
long  afterwards  President  Lincoln  was  to  declare,  "I 
have  loved  the  name  of  Rutledge  to  this  day." 

There  was  nothing  presidential  in  the  aspect  of  the 
bony,  long-shanked  young  man  who  struggled  to  help 
his  fellow  boatmen  dislodge  the  stranded  craft.  He 
wore  a  loose  homespun  coat  and  his  pantaloons  were 
stuffed  into  tall  rawhide  boots.  His  broad-brimmed 
felt  hat  had  once  been  black,  but,  as  he  drolly  remarked, 
it  was  "sunburned  now  until  it  was  a  combine  of 
colors." 

This  was  the  uncouth  figure  who  unloaded  squealing 
pigs  and  heavy  barrels  to  a  borrowed  boat  and  then 
engineered  the  boring  of  a  hole  in  the  end  of  the 
swamped  boat  that  stuck  out  in  mid  air  over  the  dam. 
The  bilge  water  ran  out  of  this  hole  which  was  then 


THE  TRIP  TO  NEW  ORLEANS  71 

plugged  as  the  boat  tipped  up  and  slid  neatly  over  the 
dam.  Offutt  was  vociferously  enthusiastic  over  Abe's 
ingenuity  and  boasted  loudly  to  the  crowd  that  had 
gathered  to  watch  that  some  day  he  was  going  to  build 
a  boat  equipped  with  rollers  to  slide  over  dams  and 
shoals  and  fitted  with  runners  to  glide  over  ice  and 
with  Abe  as  captain  "By  Thunder,  she'd  have  to  go !" 
Offutt  was  a  wordy  man  and  the  day  was  to  come 
when  his  bragging  of  Lincoln's  powers  would  precipi- 
tate a  fight. 

Denton  Offutt,  however,  was  not  alone  in  admiration 
of  Abraham  that  day.  There  appeared  on  the  bank  the 
dainty  figure  of  James  Rutledge's  pretty  daughter  Ann, 
in  whose  shy  appreciation  of  Abe's  ability  that  day 
began  one  of  the  love  idylls  of  American  history.  Abe 
was  not  blind  to  her  inspection  of  him  and  the  picture 
of  Ann  Rutledge  from  that  moment  was  never  blotted 
from  his  heart.  To  the  young  backwoodsman  accus- 
tomed only  to  the  stocky  country  girls  and  work- 
coarsened  women  of  his  acquaintance,  Ann  was  an 
unbelievable  vision  of  all  that  was  dainty  and  fair.  As 
he  poled  off  down  the  river  he  could  not  take  his  eyes 
from  her,  and  did  not  look  where  he  was  going  until 
he  bumped  the  boat  into  a  snag  and  was  rewarded  by 
Hanks'  good-natured  ridicule.  As  he  passed  out  of 
sight  around  a  turn  in  the  river,  Ann  Rutledge  was 
joined  by  John  McNeil,  the  Beau  Brummell  who  was 
her  fiance  and  who  inquired  indignantly  whether  she 
knew  the  flatboatman  to  whom  she  had  ventured  a 
friendly  wave  of  her  handkerchief.  Ann  replied  half 
wistfully,  half  mischievously  that  she  wished  she  did, 
he  was  "so  gawky  and  so  kindly."    And  so  for  a  little 


72      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

while  Abraham  Lincoln  passed  down  the  river  and  out 
of  her  sight. 

Once  out  upon  the  Illinois  River  the  flatboat  crew 
hoisted  crude  "sails  made  of  planks  and  cloth"  which 
caused  shouts  of  laughter  from  those  who  watched 
the  boat  along  the  shore.  Nevertheless  these  sails  car- 
ried them  out  upon  the  broad  Mississippi  and  down 
that  stream  where  they  tied  up  at  Memphis,  Vicks- 
burg  and  Natchez  along  the  way.  They  reached  New 
Orleans  in  May  and  here  they  spent  a  month  selling 
their  wares  and  seeing  the  sights.  One  sight  was 
branded  on  Abraham's  memory  forever.  This  was  the 
slave  market  where  human  slavery  in  its  full  horror 
first  met  his  eyes. 

The  market  place  was  an  open  plaza  surrounded  by 
dealers'  offices,  auction  blocks,  auctioneers'  booths,  and 
pens  and  shanties  where  waiting  slaves  were  confined 
for  sale  like  shipments  of  cattle.  Here  auctioning, 
dickering,  trading  and  swapping  took  place.  Fresh 
shipments  of  human  beings  from  other  states  were 
driven  in  here  and  put  on  the  open  market,  prices  for 
human  flesh  rose  and  fell.  Small  droves  of  slaves  were 
driven  by  dealers  back  and  forth  across  this  plaza: 
groups  of  thick-necked,  knotted-muscled  black  men; 
slim  yellow  women;  little  frightened  pickaninnies. 
Here  was  the  sound  of  crying  women,  whimpering 
children,  the  crack  of  the  whip,  the  auctioneer's  drone, 
the  market  gossip  of  buyers.  Occasionally  a  frenzied 
slave  would  bolt  for  escape  and  there  followed  the 
sound  of  flogging  and  the  sight  of  raw  human  blood. 
Escape  was  impractical,  the  slaves  were  coupled  to- 
gether by  ropes  or  chains  like  strings  of  unbroken 


THE  TRIP  TO  NEW  ORLEANS  73 

horses  led  to  market,  and  resistance  was  scarcely  more 
than  the  plunging  of  a  restless  horse  or  ugly  bull. 

Auctioneers  knocked  down  human  beings  displayed 
on  blocks  to  highest  bidders.  Dealers  walked  slaves 
up  and  down  to  show  that  they  were  able  and  active, 
while  bidders  examined  the  negroes'  eyes,  teeth  and 
muscles,  poking  and  feeling  their  flesh  and  limbs  as 
a  buyer  scrutinizes  a  new  horse.  Here  negroes,  strong 
men,  big  women,  young  girls,  were  put  naked  on  the 
block  to  satisfy  purchasers  that  they  were  unblem- 
ished. Here  the  blacks  underwent  examination  for 
minute  physical  detail  from  breeders  who  picked  their 
slaves  as  stockmen  choose  their  cattle.  Broken  old  men 
and  withered  hags  were  knocked  down  at  bargains  to 
be  worked  to  death  for  the  little  life  left  in  them. 
Prices  for  children  and  "likely  wenches"  and  middle- 
aged  negroes  ranged  from  $500  to  $800  and  quotations 
from  auction  sales  reports  show  that  prices  for  negroes 
in  their  prime  sometimes  ran  as  high  as  $1,150  to 
$1,800  a  head,  putting  the  cost  price  of  a  single  slave 
beyond  the  reach  of  the  small  planter. 

Children  grown  sufficiently  to  be  put  to  light  work 
were  wrenched  from  their  mothers  and  sold  before 
their  very  eyes,  while  the  pitiful  maternal  grief  was 
ignored  as  the  mere  lowing  of  a  cow  for  its  calf. 

Of  all  the  slave  markets  in  the  country  there  was 
none  with  a  more  hideous  reputation  than  that  at  New 
Orleans.  This  city  was  in  the  heart  of  the  region 
which  depended  more  than  any  other  on  slave  labor  for 
its  prosperity.  Vast  cotton  fields,  deadly  rice  swamps 
and  cane  brakes  absorbed  all  the  slave  labor  procurable, 
and  to  fill  the  enormous  demand  for  negroes  in  this 


74      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

region,  vile  and  unscrupulous  means  were  resorted  to. 
Kidnaping  of  free  negroes  from  other  states  and  the 
smuggling  of  them,  as  well  as  stolen  and  imported 
natives  from  other  countries,  was  a  more  prosperous 
and  underhanded  business  than  bootlegging  ever  prom- 
ised to  be.  Federal  prohibition  of  this  practice  was  cir- 
cumvented by  devious  evil  ways  and  the  smuggling 
went  on.  As  late  as  1858  a  shipload  of  kidnaped  free 
negroes  sailed  from  Perth  Amboy,  N.  J.,  to  disgorge 
its  contents  on  the  New  Orleans  market,  whence  the 
victims  were  lost  to  identity  in  Louisiana  swamps. 
Stolen  slaves  were  disfigured  enough  to  disguise  their 
ownership  and  resold  like  any  other  burglar  loot, 
through  "  fences.' '  Speculators  bought  up  convicts  and 
shipped  them  for  trade.  It  was  the  fate  of  any  run- 
away slave  when  caught  to  be  beaten  unmercifully  and 
sent  to  the  New  Orleans  market,  and  to  be  sold  at  New 
Orleans  was  the  end  of  all  hope.  Slaves  here  met  with 
none  of  the  kind  destiny  that  sometimes  fell  to  the  lot 
of  house  servants  in  other  states  where  they  often  be- 
came household  favorites,  petted,  spoiled  and  loved  as 
"aunt"  or  "uncle"  to  the  white  children  in  the  family. 

To  be  "sold  down  the  river"  meant  nothing  but  the 
hardest  life,  labor  and  exposure  in  sugar  and  cotton  or 
rice  fields,  where  the  practice  was  to  buy  and  use  up 
human  flesh  to  its  last  resistance  as  old  horses  are 
bought  up  and  worked  for  all  that  is  in  them  until  they 
drop.  Seven  years  was  the  greatest  span  of  life  to  be 
expected  in  the  stench  and  steam  of  the  rice  swamps 
of  that  day. 

Such  was  the  revelation  of  the  harshest  aspect  of 
slavery  as  presented  to  the  country  boy  from  Sangamon 


THE  TRIP  TO  NEW  ORLEANS  75 

River.  The  backwoodsman  who  could  not  bear  to  kill 
a  turtle,  shoot  game,  or  abandon  a  little  shivering  dog 
could  not  endure  the  slave  market  sights  longer  than 
it  took  to  impress  on  him  the  horrors  of  the  slaving 
system.  Mercy  and  justice  ever  characterized  Abraham 
Lincoln  and  he  withdrew  from  this  scene  with  revul- 
sion and  an  "unconquerable  hate." 

"Come  on,  boys,',  he  said,  "let's  get  out  of  here,  but 
if  I  ever  get  a  chance  to  hit  that  thing  I  am  going  to 
hit  it  hard !" 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE   COUNTRY   STOREKEEPER 

On  returning  from  New  Orleans,  Abe  took  up 
Offutt's  offer  to  run  a  country  store  which  that  enter- 
prising speculator  planned  to  open  in  New  Salem. 
New  Salem  was  the  village  where  the  flatboat  had  run 
aground  on  the  Rutledge  -mill  dam  and  so  by  another 
turn  of  fate's  shuttle  the  strands  of  Lincoln's  and  Ann 
Rutledge's  lives  were  woven  together. 

The  lively  Offutt  always  proved  behindhand  in  his 
bargains  and  perhaps  the  Little  Brown  Jug  again  de- 
layed him,  for  Lincoln  was  obliged  to  loaf  about  in 
Salem  waiting  for  merchant  and  merchandise  to  ap- 
pear. It  was  during  these  idle  days  that  he  came  in 
contact  with  his  first  election-day  experience. 

A  local  election  was  going  on  and  the  schoolmaster, 
Mr.  Mentor  Graham,  was  appointed  as  one  clerk,  the 
other  clerk,  Mr.  McNeil,  Ann's  fiance,  fell  ill  and  could 
not  appear.  In  casting  about  for  a  substitute,  the 
schoolmaster  noticed  the  stranger  who  appeared  to  be 
always  reading.  He  therefore  asked  Lincoln  whether 
he  could  write  as  well  as  read,  to  which  Abe  replied 
dryly  that  he  guessed  he  could  make  "a  few  rabbit 
tracks,"  and  he  was  thereupon  taken  on  as  election  clerk. 
In  this  way  Lincoln  struck  up  a  friendship  with  the 
kindly  schoolmaster  who  later  did  much  to  help  him 
in  his  study  of  grammar  and  surveying. 

76 


THE  COUNTRY  STOREKEEPER  77 

In  the  course  of  time  the  derelict  Offutt  appeared 
with  his  goods  which  Abe  disposed  about  the  store 
much  after  the  manner  of  Jones'  cross-roads  grocery 
at  Gentryville. 

He  then  settled  down  as  country  storekeeper,  but  the 
success  of  his  career  was  early  jeopardized  by  the  im- 
prudent Offutt,  who  was  characterized  contemptuously 
by  one  of  the  neighbors  as  a  man  who  "talked  too  much 
with  his  mouth."  Offutt  bragged  too  loudly  and  fool- 
ishly of  Abe's  ability,  not  hesitating  to  say  that  "he 
knew  more  than  any  man  in  the  whole  United  States," 
and  moreover  that  he  could  beat  any  man  in  the  country 
at  "wrastlin'."  This  was  naturally  odious  to  the  local 
heroes  and  it  came  to  the  ears  of  the  "Clary's  Grove 
Boys,"  a  gang  of  young  ruffians  who  delighted  chiefly 
in  drinking  and  fighting.  This  rough  brotherhood  de- 
scended boisterously  on  the  town  every  week  or  so  and 
perpetrated  all  sorts  of  bullying  and  "brutal  horse 
play." 

Offutt's  boast  of  Abe's  prowess  as  a  fighter  was 
exactly  the  sort  of  thing  the  Clary's  Grove  gang  de- 
lighted not  to  pass  by  and  it  provoked  their  challenge, 
much  to  Abe's  disgust. 

Abe  ignored  the  taunts  and  baiting  of  the  gang  as 
long  as  possible,  but  one  day  when  he  was  showing  a 
bolt  of  calico  to  some  women  folk  at  the  counter,  among 
them  possibly  Ann  Rutledge  herself,  a  group  of  young 
thugs  headed  by  a  huge  bully  called  Jack  Armstrong 
stampeded  into  the  store.  They  raised  such  a  disturb- 
ance upsetting  articles  about  the  store  that  Abe  had  to 
leave  his  customers  and  threaten  to  throw  them  out. 
This  was  exactly  what  they  wanted  and  was  greeted 


78      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

with  their  hoots  and  howls  as  they  urged  Jack  Arm- 
strong on.  Chagrined  at  this  commotion  in  the  pres- 
ence of  his  customers,  Lincoln  said  he  " would  not  give 
them  what  they  deserved  before  the  ladies.' '  To  this 
Jack  replied  he  was  "going  to  pull  Abe's  nose  out  of  a 
book  some  day  and  rub  it  in  the  mud." 

As  the  ladies  had  now  precipitately  left  the  store, 
Abe  swung  himself  over  the  counter  upon  the  leading 
bully.  Now  Jack  Armstrong  had  hitherto  been  un- 
licked  and  he  therefore  entertained  a  high  opinion  of 
himself,  but  he  was  an  overheavy  rowdy  who  spent 
his  nights  in  late  carousing  and  many  of  his  days  in 
drink.  Against  him  came  the  railsplitter  whose  arms 
and  shoulders  were  like  steel  from  long  swinging  of  ax 
and  maul,  and  whose  lungs  and  head  were  steady  from 
sober  living  in  the  open  forest  air.  The  backwoods- 
man who  could  "fell  trees  like  three  men"  and  walk 
off  single-handed  with  an  entire  log  chicken  house 
simply  picked  up  Jack  Armstrong  and  strangled  him. 
At  this  all  the  other  town  rowdies  rallied  to  their  com- 
rade's aid  and  fell  upon  Lincoln  with  foul  play,  trip- 
ping him  up  and  kicking  him.  Lincoln's  easy-going 
temper  now  flared  into  rage. 

He  put  his  back  against  the  wall  and  faced  his  com- 
batants with  the  fury  of  such  sledge-hammer  blows  as 
would  fell  a  young  ox.  This  was  precisely  the  sort  of 
thing  the  gang  could  understand  and  admire.  They 
fell  back  in  amazement  and  appreciation.  In  another 
moment  the  crisis  was  over,  the  general  fight  ended,  and 
Lincoln  had  passed  his  initiation  into  the  village 
brotherhood.  He  picked  up  Jack  and  shook  his  hand, 
and  thereupon  the  others  pressed  forward  to  congratu- 


THE  COUNTRY  STOREKEEPER  79 

late  him  and  feel  his  muscle.  The  Clary's  Grove  gang 
regarded  Lincoln  as  their  crony  from  that  day  forward 
and  declared  that  he  was  "the  cleverest  fellow  that  ever 
broke  into  the  settlement." 

Although  Abe  was  much  averse  to  such  brawls,  in 
this  instance  he  gained  with  a  few  blows  what  might 
otherwise  have  cost  him  years  to  acquire.  For,  while 
such  men  of  character  as  Mr.  Rutledge  and  School- 
master Graham  were  prompt  to  recognize  Lincoln's 
true  worth,  nothing  but  an  evidence  of  superior 
strength  could  win  him  control  of  the  town  roughs. 
It  proved  of  political  value  to  Lincoln  later  that  he 
could  win  the  confidence  not  only  of  steady-going 
farmers,  prominent  citizens  and  leading  business  men, 
but  of  the  lowly  rough  element  as  well.  Jack  Arm- 
strong proved  his  friend  for  life  and  Lincoln  never 
lacked  a  champion  when  Armstrong  was  about.  Abe 
returned  this  friendship  and  as  long  as  he  lived  in 
New  Salem  paid  many  a  visit  to  Jack's  cabin,  which 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  village  consisted  of  only 
fifteen  or  twenty  cabins  was  referred  to  as  "four  miles 
out  in  the  country."  Jack's  wife,  Hannah,  tells  of  his 
visits  in  her  own  words : 

"Abe  would  come  out  to  our  house,  drink  milk,  eat 
mush,  corn  bread,  butter,  bring  the  children  candy  and 
rock  the  cradle  while  I  got  him  something  to  eat.  I 
fixed  his  pants  and  made  his  shirts.  He  has  gone  with 
us  to  father's;  he  would  tell  stories,  joke  people,  girls 
and  boys,  at  parties.  He  would  nurse  babies — do  any- 
thing to  accommodate  anybody.  No,  I  hadn't  no  books 
about  my  house  to  loan  him.  We  didn't  have  time  to 
think  about  books  and  papers,  we  had  to  work  too 


80      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

hard  to  make  a  living."  The  hold  that  Lincoln  had 
upon  the  country  families  in  whose  hospitable  cabins  he 
lived  thus  intimately,  was  incalculable,  but  in  the  case 
of  the  Armstrongs  this  was  later  strengthened  by  a  far 
greater  bond.  Twenty-six  years  later,  when  Lincoln 
was  a  successful  practising  attorney  in  Springfield,  Illi- 
nois, he  wrote  the  following  letter  to  Hannah  Arm- 
strong : 

"Springfield,  111.,  Sept.,  1857. 
"Dear  Mrs.  Armstrong : 

"I  have  just  heard  of  your  deep  affliction  and  the 
arrest  of  your  son  for  murder.  I  can  hardly  believe 
that  he  can  be  capable  of  the  crime  alleged  against  him. 
It  does  not  seem  possible.  I  am  anxious  that  he  should 
be  given  a  fair  trial  at  any  rate ;  and  gratitude  for  your 
long  continued  kindness  to  me  in  adverse  circumstances 
prompts  me  to  offer  my  humble  services  gratuitously  in 
his  behalf.  It  will  afford  me  an  opportunity  to  re- 
quite, in  a  small  degree,  the  favors  I  received  at  your 
hand  and  that  of  your  lamented  husband,  when  your 
roof  afforded  me  a  grateful  shelter,  without  price. 

"Yours  truly, 
"A.  Lincoln." 

At  this  trial  Lincoln  saved  the  life  of  Hannah's  son 
with  an  almanac.  A  witness  swore  that  he  saw  "Duff" 
Armstrong  strike  the  actual  blow  that  killed  his  op- 
ponent. On  oath  the  witness  stated  that  this  blow  was 
struck  at  about  half -past  nine  at  night  and  that  he 
could  see  it  plainly  as  "the  moon  was  nearly  full  and 
as  bright  as  day." 


THE  COUNTRY  STOREKEEPER  81 

Thereupon  Lincoln  rose  with  the  court  almanac  in 
hand  and  pointed  out  to  the  jury  that  the  moon  did  not 
shine  that  night  until  nearly  midnight.  Through  this 
clever  turn,  Jack  Armstrong's  ne'er-do-well  son 
escaped  the  gallows  and  Lincoln's  debt  of  gratitude 
was  paid. 

Years  were  to  pass,  however,  before  Lincoln  estab- 
lished himself  as  a  lawyer.  For  the  present  he  con- 
tinued storekeeping  and  found  that  it  afforded  him  an 
opportunity  for  study.  He  kept  some  book  continually 
at  hand  under  the  counter  and  customers  were  hardly 
out  of  the  store  before  he  had  whipped  it  out  and  was 
bending  over  an  open  page.  In  addition  to  storekeep- 
ing and  studying  Abe  found  time  to  split  enough  rails 
for  Offutt  to  fence  in  a  thousand  hogs  and  besides  this 
was  always  ready  to  help  in  barn  raisings  and  to  chop 
a  poor  widow  some  winter  fire  wood.  Such  good  turns 
soon  made  him  well  liked. 

Abe's  ambition  was  growing  with  his  popularity  and 
he  began  to  hope  that  he  might  some  day  be  called  to 
fill  a  public  office,  for  he  was  now  definitely  determined 
to  "fit  himself  for  a  profession."  Speech-making  Abe 
delighted  in,  but  felt  handicapped  because  he  frequently 
became  tangled  up  in  his  use  of  language,  for,  as  he 
said  himself,  he  "didn't  know  the  first  thing  about 
grammar."  The  language  Abe  had  heard  spoken  daily 
about  him  was  the  careless  colloquial  speech  of  unlet- 
tered countrymen  and  it  was  only  through  his  applica- 
tion to  books  that  he  became  conscious  of  a  different 
mode  of  expression. 

One  morning  while  he  and  Mr.  Graham  were  at  an 
early  farmhouse  breakfast  together,  Abe  confided  his 


82      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

ambitions  and  difficulties  to  the  sympathetic  school- 
master, saying: 

"You  know,  I've  got  a  good  notion  to  study  English 
grammar." 

"It's  the  best  thing  you  can  do,  if  you  expect  to  go 
before  the  public  in  any  capacity,"  Mr.  Graham 
promptly  advised,  to  which  Abe  replied,  "Well,  if  I 
had  a  grammar  I  would  begin  right  now."  "I  know 
where  you  can  get  one,"  Mr.  Graham  answered. 
"Over  at  Vaner's  house,  about  six  miles  from  here." 
Abe  finished  his  bowl  of  bread  and  milk  and  then  im- 
mediately rose  from  the  table  and  strode  out.  He  cov- 
ered the  six  miles  there  and  back  before  Graham  could 
realize  that  he  was  gone,  and  returning,  he  slapped  the 
book  down  triumphantly  before  the  schoolmaster,  say- 
ing, "Now  let's  begin."  Clearness  of  expression  be- 
came a  passion  with  him  and  he  has  said  that  when  he 
had  an  idea  of  his  own  or  after  he  had  heard  some  one 
else  explain  something  in  obscure  or  confused  terms 
he  could  not  sleep,  but  would  walk  up  and  down  half 
the  night  struggling  to  express  it  simply.  "When  I 
thought  I  had  got  it  I  would  not  be  satisfied  until  I 
had  repeated  it  over  and  over  and  put  it  into  language 
plain  enough,  as  I  thought,  for  any  boy  I  knew  to  com- 
prehend." He  kept  his  Bible  at  hand  and  this  was 
constantly  his  inspiration  in  figure  of  speech  and  sim- 
plicity of  expression.  Years  later  the  very  clarity  of 
his  speeches  not  only  made  a  strong  appeal  to  "the 
common  people,"  but  made  these  speeches  classics. 

It  was  during  these  days  of  country  storekeeping 
that  Lincoln  earned  the  nickname  "Honest  Abe,"  after- 
wards famous  as  a  political  slogan.    It  came  about  in 


THE  COUNTRY  STOREKEEPER  83 

this  way.  Lincoln  could  never  be  comfortable  for  an 
instant  if  he  found  that  he  had  unintentionally  short- 
changed a  customer.  One  afternoon  he  made  a  sale 
to  a  countrywoman  and  reckoned  her  bill  as  $2.20. 
She  paid  him  and  drove  off.  He  added  up  the  items 
again  to  check  the  amount  and  found  that  he  had  taken 
six  cents  too  much.  When  he  shut  up  shop  that  night, 
before  stopping  for  supper  he  set  off  for  the  customer's 
house,  some  four  miles  out  in  the  country,  with  the  six 
cents  in  his  pocket  for  her. 

On  another  day  an  old  woman  came  in  just  at  closing 
time  and  bought  half  a  pound  of  tea.  The  tea  was 
weighed  out  and  taken  and  the  weight  left  on  the  scales. 
,The  next  morning  on  opening  shop,  Lincoln  noticed  the 
weight  still  on  the  scales  and  saw  that  he  had  used  only 
four  ounces  by  mistake.  He  promptly  weighed  out 
another  four  ounces,  wrapped  it  up,  shut  up  shop  and 
took  a  long  walk  before  breakfast  to  carry  the  old 
woman  her  little  package  of  tea.  These  incidents 
seemed  merely  trifling  to  him  but  the  nickname  stuck 
and  his  reputation  for  thorough  honesty  spread  and  car- 
ried weight. 

During  these  country  store  days  Lincoln  made  the 
lifelong  friendship  of  a  certain  William  G.  Greene, 
known  to  Abe  affectionately  as  "Billy/'  a  young  man 
who  after  attending  Illinois  College  was  employed  as 
clerk  at  Rutledge's  mill.  Billy  Greene  and  Abe  Lincoln 
got  their  meals  together  at  the  farmhouse  of  Billy's 
uncle,  Mr.  Bowling  Greene,  the  village  justice-of-the- 
peace.  Mr.  Greene's  motherly  wife  was  "Aunt  Nancy" 
to  both  young  men  and  in  this  home  Lincoln  found 
more  comfort  and  companionship  than  in  any  other  to 


84      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

which  his  lot  thus  far  had  fallen.  Billy  Greene  was 
the  typical  good-hearted  gay  young  man  of  his  day 
but  he  declares  that  he  never  saw  his  friend  Lincoln 
smoke  or  chew,  never  heard  him  swear  but  once  in 
his  life,  and  never  saw  him  take  a  drink  of  liquor  but 
once  when  he  immediately  spat  it  out  again.  "The 
way  he  came  to  get  that  mouthful,"  Billy  relates,  "was 
this  way.  Like  other  young  fellows  I  used  to  bet  and 
gamble  and  Abe  said  to  me  one  day,  'Billy,  you  ought 
to  stop  gambling.'  I  said,  'Well,  Abe,  I  know  I  ought 
to,  but  I'm  ninety  cents  behind  with  that  fellow  Estep 
and  I  can't  quit  till  I  win  it  back.'  'Look  here,'  says 
Abe,  'if  I  help  you  win  that  back  will  you  give  me 
your  word  not  to  gamble  again  ?'  'Give  you  my  word,' 
I  said.  Then  Abe  said:  'Here  are  some  hats  on  sale 
for  seven  dollars  apiece.  Now  when  Estep  comes  in 
you  lead  him  on  and  bet  him  one  of  those  hats  I  can  lift 
a  full  forty  gallon  barrel  of  whiskey  and  take  a  drink 
out  of  the  bunghole.' 

"Well,  we  fixed  up  the  bunghole  so  it  would  be  in 
the  right  place  and  when  Estep  came  in  I  led  him  on 
to  the  bet.  Then  Abe  squatted  down  and  lifted  that 
barrel  up  on  his  knee,  filled  his  mouth  at  the  bung  and 
spit  it  out  again.  I  won  the  hat  and  never  gambled 
again." 

"All  the  fellows  used  to  like  to  gather  at  Offutt's 
store  and  get  Abe  started  at  joking  and  debating,"  Billy 
testifies,  and  so  we  find  that  before  Abe  had  been  in 
New  Salem  more  than  a  few  months  he  had  gained  such 
popularity  as  had  promptly  been  his  before  in  Gentry- 
ville  and  up  and  down  the  Sangamon.  "Honest  Abe" 
was  soon  turned  to  as  arbitrator  in  trade  disputes,  as 


THE  COUNTRY  STOREKEEPER  85 

referee  at  running  and  "wrastling"  matches,  judge  at 
local  horse  races,  peacemaker  in  quarrels.  One  old 
woman  said,  "Everybody  liked  Abe,  and  trusted  him 
too.  He  always  did  have  the  best  heart  and  showed 
the  most  sense  of  anybody  in  our  section."  The  rise 
of  Lincoln's  popularity  was  so  rapid  that  although  he 
only  came  to  New  Salem  in  August,  1831,  by  the  time 
he  had  passed  his  twenty-third  birthday  he  was  "en- 
couraged by  his  popularity  among  the  immediate  neigh- 
bors" to  announce  himself  candidate  for  the  Illinois 
General  Assembly  in  March,  1832. 


CHAPTER  XII 

LEGISLATURE   AND   WAR 

The  only  procedure  necessary  to  become  a  candidate 
for  the  Illinois  State  Legislature  in  those  days  was  a 
man's  statement  of  his  stand  on  local  questions. 

Of  leading  importance  throughout  the  whole  coun- 
try at  that  particular  time  was  the  opening  up  of 
vast  new  territory  by  canal  routes,  by  dredging  river 
beds  and  by  extension  of  railroads.  The  dream  of 
settlers  about  New  Salem  was  to  see  their  wilderness 
cut  by  a  railroad,  but  the  cost  of  this  seemed  pro- 
hibitive. 

In  a  handbill  by  which  Lincoln  placed  his  policy  be- 
fore the  public,  the  young  candidate  stated  his  argu- 
ments for  deeming  improvement  of  the  Sangamon 
River  for  navigation  a  vital  and  more  practicable 
method  of  developing  that  region.  He  based  his  con- 
clusions on  sound  reasoning  grounded  upon  his  own 
experience  as  boatman  and  farmer  upon  the  Sangamon. 
His  arguments  as  well  as  the  modesty  with  which  he 
stated  them  were  well  calculated  to  please  the  men  who 
knew  him  in  that  section. 

"Finally,"  he  concluded,  "I  believe  the  improvement 

of  the  Sangamon  River  to  be  vastly  important  and 

highly  desirable  to  the  people  of  the  country;  and,  if 

elected,  any  measure  in  the  legislature  having  this  for 

86 


LEGISLATURE  AND  WAR  87 

its  object,  which  may  appear  judicious,  will  meet  with 
my  approbation  and  receive  my  support." 

His  circular  ended  with  the  following  statement 
which  not  only  shows  the  dignity  of  expression  attained 
by  this  self-taught  backwoodsman,  but  acts  as  an  index 
to  his  attitude  and  character : 

"Every  man  is  said  to  have  his  peculiar  ambition. 
Whether  it  is  true  or  not,  I  can  say,  for  one,  that  I 
have  no  other  so  great  as  that  of  being  truly  esteemed 
of  my  fellow-men  by  rendering  myself  worthy  of  their 
esteem.  How  far  I  shall  succeed  in  gratifying  this  am- 
bition is  yet  to  be  developed.  I  am  young  and  un- 
known to  many  of  you.  I  was  born,  and  have  ever  re- 
mained, in  the  most  humble  walks  of  life.  I  have  no 
wealthy  or  popular  relations  or  friends  to  recommend 
me.  My  case  is  thrown  exclusively  upon  the  independ- 
ent voters  of  the  country;  and,  if  elected,  they  will 
have  conferred  a  favor  upon  me  for  which  I  shall  be 
unremitting  in  my  labors  to  compensate.  But,  if  the 
good  people  in  their  wisdom  shall  see  fit  to  keep  me 
in  the  background,  I  have  been  too  familiar  with  dis- 
appointments to  be  very  much  chagrined." 

Lincoln's  campaign  was  interrupted  by  the  alarm  of 
war.  One  April  morning  there  dashed  on  horseback 
through  the  village  a  messenger  scattering  circulars 
from  the  Governor  of  the  State  announcing  that  a  band 
of  hostile  Indians  under  Chief  Black  Hawk  was  spread- 
ing terror  among  frontier  settlers  in  Rock  County  and 
calling  upon  volunteers  willing  to  rally  to  their  aid  to 
meet  in  Beardstown  within  a  week.  Excitement  ran 
high,  men  gathered  and  formed  a  company  in  Sanga- 
mon County  at  once  and  Abe  Lincoln  was  promptly 


88      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

elected  captain.  This  group  joined  other  companies 
at  Beardstown  within  a  few  days  and  some  drill  of 
recruits  went  forward. 

Lincoln  could  handle  men  but  he  had  no  reason  to 
know  military  tactics,  and  he  afterwards  indulged  in 
many  a  hearty  laugh  at  his  own  expense,  in  telling  of 
blunders  that  he  made. 

On  one  occasion,  so  he  relates,  he  was  leading  a 
squad  of  men  across  a  field  when  he  came  to  a  gate. 
"I  could  not  for  the  life  of  me  remember  the  proper 
word  for  getting  my  company  endzvise,  so  that  it  could 
get  through  the  gate,  so,  as  we  came  near  the  fence  I 
shouted,  'This  company  is  dismissed  for  two  minutes 
when  it  will  fall  in  again  on  the  other  side  of  the 
gate!'" 

Such  setbacks,  however,  did  not  shake  the  respect  of 
the  men  for  their  untrained  captain.  Had  he  been 
fresh  from  West  Point's  discipline  he  could  not  have 
won  more  loyalty  among  his  followers  than  his  own 
personality  commanded.  His  intimacy  with  them,  un- 
tainted by  familiarity  or  condescension,  won  devotion 
that  endured.  In  their  enthusiasm  for  their  captain  his 
soldiers  boasted  of  him  to  all  comers,  and  one  day 
backed  him  to  wrestle  against  the  vaunted  "strong 
man,"  Thompson,  of  another  regiment.  Thompson 
and  Lincoln  clinched  in  a  friendly  bout,  and  it  must 
be  admitted  that  the  brawny  railsplitter  who  had 
thrown  many  a  man  fully  expected  to  overpower  this 
one.  However,  after  struggling  for  some  time  with 
no  advantage,  he  panted,  "This  is  the  strongest  man  I 
ever  met."  In  another  minute  Lincoln,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  was  thrown.    At  this  his  excited  sol- 


LEGISLATURE  AND  WAR  89 

diers  rushed  in,  yelling  "Foul  play,"  to  which  Thomp- 
son's men  shouted,  "We'll  see  about  that!"  and  both 
sides  angrily  began  to  strip  off  tunics  and  fall  upon 
one  another. 

To  stop  the  fight  Lincoln  rose  good-naturedly  and 
said,  "Hold  on,  boys,  this  fellow  threw  me  fairly, 
and  I  think  he  could  do  it  again.  Let  us  give  in  that 
he  beat  me  fairly."  Such  a  spirit  was  new  to  many 
of  the  men  he  commanded  and  could  not  fail  to  make 
its  impression. 

Another  example  of  his  spirit  of  justice  and  fair 
play  occurred  one  day  in  the  midst  of  the  Black  Hawk 
War  when  a  miserable  old  Indian  wandered  forlornly 
into  camp  begging  charity.  An  Indian  was  the  very 
game  the  soldiers  sought  and  their  wrath  and  excite- 
ment boiled  at  sight  of  this  one.  They  fell  roughly 
upon  the  old  man  and  jerked  him  along  with  shouts  of 
"Hang  him  up!"  "Take  his  scalp!"  "Yes,  get  his 
scalp !"    "He's  what  we're  after,  cut  his  throat." 

The  poor  old  beggar  pleaded  in  vain  with  them  and 
waved  a  dirty  bit  of  paper  whimpering,  "Me  good 
Injun!  Read  white  chief's  talking  paper!"  This  the 
mob  derided  with  cries  of  "Spy!  String  him  to  a 
tree!" 

The  commotion  brought  Lincoln  out  of  his  tent  to 
say,  "Here,  here,  boys,  what's  all  this  about?" 

"We've  got  a  spy !"  yelled  the  men,  unruly  now  with 
lynch  spirit,  and  they  dragged  the  helpless  and  terrified 
old  Indian  rudely  along  as  he  tried  to  break  away  to 
plead  with  Lincoln. 

"Here,  stand  back,"  shouted  Abe.  "Let  that  Indian 
go!" 


90      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

"We're  going  to  hang  him  up!"  yelled  a  lawless  sol- 
dier.   "We  aren't  afraid  of  him  if  you  are !" 

"Who  says  I'm  afraid?"  demanded  Lincoln,  bel- 
ligerently rolling  up  his  sleeves.  The  Sangamon  boys 
knew  the  power  of  those  arms  too  well  to  relish  an  en- 
counter and  paused  to  answer : 

"Ah,  now,  Cap'n,  that's  not  fair,  we've  got  no  show 
against  you." 

"More  show  than  this  old  Injun  has  against  all  of 
you!"  retorted  Lincoln. 

"Come  on,  you  can  take  it  out  on  me  and  I'll  fight 
the  lot,  one  after  another,  but  you're  not  going  to  hurt 
that  old  man,  Injun  or  no  Injun.  When  a  man  comes 
to  me  for  help  he's  going  to  get  it  if  I  have  to  lick  all 
Sangamon  County."  The  mob  quieted  down  and  let 
the  old  Indian  go.  He  proved  to  be  nothing  more 
alarming  than  a  friendly  hanger-on  from  another  gen- 
eral's division.  He  lived  to  be  rallied  good-naturedly 
by  the  very  men  who  would  have  killed  him. 

We  have  Lincoln's  own  word  for  it  that  there  was 
a  more  gruesome  side  to  the  Black  Hawk  War  than 
presented  in  these  camp  stories.  He  himself  saw  very 
little  fighting,  but  remembered  riding  just  at  sunrise 
one  morning  upon  a  camp  which  Indians  had  surprised 
in  the  night,  killing  every  man.  Years  after,  when  he 
was  President,  Lincoln  said : 

"I  can  remember  just  how  those  men  looked.  The 
red  light  of  the  morning  sun  was  streaming  upon  them 
as  they  lay,  heads  toward  us,  on  the  ground,  and  every 
man  had  a  round  red  spot  on  the  top  of  his  head,  about 
as  big  as  a  dollar,  where  the  redskins  had  taken  his 
scalp."    The  term  for  which  the  Sangamon  volunteers 


LEGISLATURE  AND  WAR  91 

had  enlisted  expired,  but  Black  Hawk  was  still  leaving 
a  bloody  trail  behind  him  and  the  war  went  on.  Many 
of  the  men  at  the  end  of  their  term  went  home  to 
fulfill  family  and  farm  duties.  Young  Lincoln  was 
single  and  foot  free,  he  was  out  of  work  and  as  he 
once  told  Mr.  Herndon,  "I  could  do  nothing  better  than 
enlist  again."  This  time  he  joined  the  service  as  a 
simple  private,  glad  to  be  relieved  of  a  captaincy  he 
was  ill  equipped  to  fill.  Although  Lincoln  himself  was 
untrained  as  an  officer,  this  war,  small  though  it  was, 
called  forth  such  men  as  Zachary  Taylor,  then  a  Colonel 
in  the  regular  army  in  command  of  Fort  Crawford; 
Jefferson  Davis,  later  his  son-in-law;  Albert  Sidney 
Johnston,  and  Robert  Anderson,  later  to  be  in  com- 
mand of  Fort  Sumter.  Thus  fighting  in  one  cause 
were  men  destined  later  to  play  distinguished  parts  on 
conflicting  sides.  The  war  finally  ended  in  the  capture 
of  Chief  Black  Hawk  alive.  He  and  that  grand  old 
chief,  Tecumseh,  had  fought  to  hold  their  lands  which 
had  been  taken  over  by  the  Government.  Black  Hawk 
was  taken  East  and  shown  several  of  the  big  cities, 
arriving  finally  in  Washington  where  he  was  intro- 
duced to  the  President  and  entertained  at  the  White 
House.  Here  he  was  shown  all  the  Government  build- 
ings and  the  Government  explained  to  him.  Upon  his 
oath  of  loyalty  to  this  government  he  was  released  and 
sent  home,  where  he  faithfully  kept  his  word  to  main- 
tain peace  between  his  tribe  and  the  United  States  until 
he  died,  an  old  and  honored  man. 

Lincoln  had  joined  the  troops  at  Beardstown,  Illi- 
nois, on  the  twenty-second  of  April.  It  was  June  16th 
when  his  battalion  was  disbanded  at  Whitewater,  Wis- 


92      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

consin.  Lincoln  and  his  fellows  were  in  high  spirits, 
frolicking  like  boys  let  out  of  school  at  the  prospect 
of  returning  home.  But  on  the  night  before  they 
started  "some  patriot  overanxious  to  return  home" 
stole  the  horses  belonging  to  Lincoln  and  his  messmate 
Harrison,  who  had  to  set  out  on  foot  next  morning 
to  walk  from  Wisconsin  to  Illinois.  There  was  high 
good  humor  and  jesting  along  the  way  among  the  party 
of  returning  "veterans"  who  took  turn  and  turn  about 
on  the  horses  available,  while  many  men  were  obliged 
to  walk  and  lead  their  horses  which  were  lame  or  sore 
with  saddle  galls.  Lincoln's  jokes  and  repartee  buoyed 
up  the  spirits  and  humor  of  all,  even  on  days  when  the 
lonely  country  through  which  they  passed  scarcely  af- 
forded one  good  meal  in  a  whole  day's  tramp.  What 
friendships  they  struck  up,  what  tales  they  told,  what 
jokes  they  played,  what  stories  of  one  another's  lives 
they  learned,  what  ambitions  for  the  future  they  must 
have  confided  in  that  light-hearted  hike  which  the  re- 
turning Sangamon  boys  made  over  those  long  miles 
home! 

Lincoln  and  Harrison,  without  horses,  bought  a 
canoe  at  Peoria  and  in  this  they  paddled  to  Pekin. 
Harrison's  own  account  of  this  jaunt  reads : 

"The  river,  being  very  low,  was  without  current,  so 
that  we  had  to  pull  hard  to  make  half  the  speed  of  legs 
on  land;  in  fact,  we  let  her  float  all  night,  and  on  the 
next  morning  always  found  the  objects  still  visible  that 
were  beside  us  the  previous  evening.  The  water  was 
remarkably  clear,  for  this  river,  of  plants,  and  the  fish 
appeared  to  be  sporting  with  us  as  we  moved  over  or 
near  them.     On  the  next  day  after  we  left  Pekin  we 


LEGISLATURE  AND  WAR  93 

overhauled  a  raft  of  saw-logs,  with  two  men  afloat  on 
it  to  urge  it  on  with  poles  and  to  guide  it  in  the  channel. 
We  immediately  pulled  up  to  them  and  went  on  the 
raft  where  we  were  made  welcome  by  various  demon- 
strations, especially  by  an  invitation  to  a  feast  of  fish, 
cornbread,  eggs,  butter  and  coffee  just  prepared  for 
our  benefit.  Of  these  good  things  we  ate  almost  im- 
moderately, for  it  was  the  only  warm  meal  we  had 
made  for  several  days.  While  preparing  it,  and  after 
dinner,  Lincoln  entertained  them,  and  they  entertained 
us  for  a  couple  of  hours  very  amusingly." 

At  Pekin  they  sold  the  canoe  and  struck  off  again  on 
foot  for  New  Salem  with  high  resolutions  for  future 
endeavor  now  that  war  duty  left  them  free  to  cultivate 
their  ambitions. 

Years  later,  when  a  member  of  Congress,  Lincoln 
made  a  droll  campaign  speech  after  the  Mexican  War, 
poking  fun  ironically  at  his  own  military  career  in 
satire  of  the  exaggerated  accounts  of  heroism  claimed 
for  Gen.  Lewis  Cass,  then  running  against  Gen. 
Zachary  Taylor  for  the  Presidency  in  the  post-war  en- 
thusiasm for  military  men. 

"By  the  way,  Mr.  Speaker,"  he  said,  "did  you  know 
that  I  am  a  military  hero?  Yes,  sir,  in  the  days  of 
the  Black  Hawk  War  I  fought,  bled,  and  came  away. 
Speaking  of  General  Cass's  career  reminds  me  of  my 
own.  I  was  not  at  Stillman's  defeat,  but  I  was  about 
as  near  it  as  Cass  was  to  Hull's  surrender;  and,  like 
him,  I  saw  the  place  very  soon  afterwards.  It  is  quite 
certain  I  did  not  'break  my  sword/  for  I  had  none  to 
break,  but  I  bent  my  musket  pretty  badly  on  one  occa- 
sion.    If  Cass  broke  his  sword,  the  idea  is  he  broke 


94      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

it  in  desperation.  I  bent  my  musket  by  accident.  If 
General  Cass  went  in  advance  of  me  in  picking  whortle- 
berries, I  guess  I  surpassed  him  in  charges  upon  the 
wild  onions.  If  he  saw  any  live,  fighting  Indians  it 
was  more  than  I  did,  but  I  had  a  good  many  bloody 
struggles  with  mosquitoes,  and,  although  I  never 
fainted  from  loss  of  blood,  I  can  truly  say  I  was  often 
very  hungry. 

"Mr.  Speaker,  if  I  should  ever  conclude  to  doff  what- 
ever our  Democratic  friends  may  suppose  there  is  of 
black-cockade  Federalism  about  me  and  thereupon  they 
shall  take  me  up  as  their  candidate  for  the  Presidency, 
I  protest  they  shall  not  make  fun  of  me  as  they  have 
of  General  Cass,  by  attempting  to  write  me  into  a  mili- 
tary hero." 

This  was  Lincoln's  opinion  of  his  service  in  the 
Black  Hawk  War  from  which  he  was  mustered  out  in 
June,  to  reach  New  Salem  about  the  first  of  August 
with  scarcely  ten  days  in  which  to  push  his  candidacy 
as  legislator.  He  was  defeated.  Examination  of  the 
votes  shows  that  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  had  been 
away  from  home;  that  he  was  known  personally  in 
only  the  local  neighborhood  and  that  there  was  keen 
competition  for  the  office,  he  secured  nearly  one-third 
of  the  total  vote  of  Sangamon  County.  The  New 
Salem  section  cast  277  votes  for  him  and  only  three 
against  him. 

This  was  the  only  time  in  his  life  that  Lincoln  was 
defeated  in  a  direct  vote  of  the  people. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

STUDYING   LAW 

The  period  following  his  defeat  at  this  election  is 
told  of  by  Lincoln  himself  in  the  autobiography  which 
he  put  in  the  third  person : 

"He  was  now  without  means  and  out  of  business  but 
anxious  to  remain  with  his  friends  who  had  treated 
him  with  so  much  generosity,  especially  as  he  had  no- 
where else  to  go.  He  studied  what  he  should  do; 
thought  of  learning  the  blacksmith  trade;  thought  of 
trying  to  study  law,  rather  thought  he  could  not  suc- 
ceed at  that  without  a  better  education/ ' 

The  unstable  Offutt  had  ignominiously  failed  in  busi- 
ness, vanished  from  Sangamon  and  left  his  creditors 
stranded.  The  country  store  was  closed  and  once  more 
Lincoln  fell  back  upon  odd  jobs  and  railsplitting  to 
make  a  hand-to-mouth  living.  Then  one  day  came  the 
doubtful  opportunity  of  owning  the  store  himself. 

A  certain  Reuben  Radford  ventured  to  stock  up  the 
abandoned  store  and  open  for  trade.  He  had  been 
warned  that  our  old  friends,  the  "Clary's  Grove  Boys," 
made  a  practice  of  baiting  newcomers  and  might  be 
expected  to  perpetrate  some  boisterous  horseplay  to  the 
detriment  of  the  new  enterprise.  Radford  thought  he 
could  prevent  their  growing  boisterous  to  any  danger- 
ous extent  by  simply  limiting  them  to  two  moderate 
drinks  apiece  when  they  called.    Business  did  not  flour- 

95 


96      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

ish  and  Radford  became  downhearted.  Then  one  night 
he  paid  a  visit  three  miles  "out  in  the  country"  and 
left  his  young  brother  alone  in  charge  of  the  store. 
This  was  the  very  night  the  rowdies  chose  to  descend 
upon  the  settlement  and  inspect  the  new  shop.  They 
stampeded  noisily  into  it  and  ordered  drinks.  The 
young  brother  scrupulously  stuck  to  the  "two  drinks 
only"  rule  and  refused  to  hand  out  more.  This  limit 
proved  something  the  young  roughs  could  not  under- 
stand and  moreover  refused  to  tolerate. 

"If  you  won't  hand  them  out,  we'll  treat  ourselves 
to  all  the  drink  you've  got!"  they  threatened.  Young 
Radford  was  more  steadfast  than  diplomatic.  He  had 
been  told  to  stop  at  two  drinks  apiece  and  stop  then  he 
wrould  though  the  heavens  fell.  It  was  not,  however, 
the  heavens  that  fell,  but  the  whiskey  bottles  them- 
selves from  shelves  along  the  walls.  The  roisterers 
drew  their  guns  and  popped  every  bottle  in  sight,  then 
shot  holes  in  the  barrels  of  liquor,  molasses  and  oil 
around  the  store.  The  more  they  smashed  and  the 
more  drink  they  stole  the  more  devastation  they 
wrought,  until  a  cyclone  would  have  proved  a  gentler 
customer.  This  rioting  and  drinking  continued  until 
nearly  dawn.  The  ruffians  then  galloped  home  singing 
and  yelling  and  shouting  in  drunken  glee,  lashing  their 
horses  to  a  pounding  run  along  the  country  roads. 
Their  commotion  waked  Radford  who  sprang  up,  rec- 
ognized the  gang,  and  with  a  presentiment  of  danger 
to  the  store,  mounted  a  horse  and  galloped  madly  to 
town. 

Young  Bill  Greene,  Lincoln's  crony,  was  jogging 
along  on  horseback  to  the  mill  in  the  quiet  light  of 


STUDYING  LAW  97 

early  morning  when  he  saw  Radford  dash  wildly  by 
on  lathered  horse.  Billy  turned  and  whipped  up  after 
him.  Both  men  swung  out  of  their  saddles  and  viewed 
the  wreckage  from  the  store  doorway.  The  enterprise 
had  never  paid  and  now  it  seemed  demolished.  In  dis- 
gust Radford  declared  : 

"I'd  sell  the  whole  shebang  for  the  first  offer  I  got, 
don't  care  what  it  is  I" 

"Give  you  $400  for  the  lot,"  ventured  Billy. 

"The  place  is  yours !" 

"I  haven't  the  cash,"  Greene  said. 

"Never  mind  the  money.  Give  me  your  note  and 
the  deal  is  closed,"  declared  the  desperate  Radford. 
The  deal  was  accordingly  closed,  and  Radford  rode 
away.  In  a  few  minutes  Billy  cooled  off  enough  to 
feel  that  he  was  pretty  badly  stuck. 

At  that  moment  Lincoln  appeared  at  the  back  door 
of  the  town  "hotel"  opposite  and  began  washing  up  at 
the  tin  basin,  water  bucket  and  roller  towel  on  the 
"hotel's"  dingy  back  porch.  Billy  promptly  took  his 
troubles  to  his  friend.  "Well,  hold  your  horses,  Bill," 
Abe  said;  "let  me  get  a  bite  to  eat  and  then  we'll  go 
over  and  see  what's  left  for  you."  After  breakfast  Abe 
and  Billy  went  across  to  the  store  and  calculated  its 
contents  as  worth  perhaps  $750.  At  this  juncture  a 
certain  William  Berry  came  up  and  peered  in  the  door. 

"What's  going  on,  boys?"  he  asked,  and  when  told, 
said,  "Well,  Abe,  both  you  and  I  are  out  of  work  now, 
how  about  it  if  we  run  this  concern  ourselves?" 

"I  haven't  any  capital,"  said  Abe. 

"I  haven't  either,"  said  Billy  gloomily. 

"Look  here,"  said  Berry.    "I've  got  $250  and  a  good 


98      THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

horse  with  a  saddle  and  bridle.  Billy,  will  you  swap 
that,  with  the  store  receipts  for  the  first  day,  for  this 
concern  and  call  it  square?" 

"Will  I !"  said  Billy,  who  wished  to  be  rid  of  his 
bargain  as  soon  as  possible.  The  exchange  was  made 
and  in  another  hour  the  firm  of  Berry  and  Lincoln 
was  established  and  open  for  business.  Abe  had  reason 
to  believe  that  the  Clary's  Grove  boys  would  not  molest 
him.  The  new  firm  took  in  fifteen  dollars  and  a 
Spanish  shilling  that  first  day  and  Billy  went  home 
elated  with  the  possession  of  two  hundred  and  sixty- 
five  dollars,  twelve  and  a  half  cents,  besides  a  good 
horse,  saddle  and  bridle,  feeling  that  he  had  the  best 
of  the  deal. 

Billy  Greene,  as  it  proved,  did  have  the  best  of  the 
deal.  The  store  never  paid,  due  perhaps  to  the  fact 
that  one  partner  spent  too  much  time  lying  under  a  tree 
in  the  yard  with  his  legs  cocked  high  on  the  trunk,  his 
eyes  continually  on  some  book,  while  the  other  partner 
within  the  store  steadily  drank  from  the  liquor  barrel. 
By  spring,  1833,  after  being  in  business  only  a  few 
months,  the  partners  thought  best  to  accept  an  offer  to 
sell  out  to  a  couple  of  unreliable  brothers  named  Trent. 
This  pair  had  no  intention  of  paying  and  merely  gave 
their  notes  and  shortly  disappeared.  Berry  soon  drank 
himself  to  death  and  Lincoln  was  left  with  the  store 
debts.  Considering  the  circumstances,  and  the  fact 
that  most  settlers  in  those  days  considered  that  such  a 
failure  would  "excuse  the  debts,"  Lincoln  might  have 
abandoned  the  enterprise  and  left  his  liabilities  unpaid. 
But  "Honest  Abe,"  who  would  walk  miles  to  return 
six  cents  or  four  ounces  of  tea,  was  not  the  man  to 


STUDYING  LAW  99 

crawl  out  from  under  such  obligations  as  the  store  now 
imposed,  overwhelming  though  they  were. 

He  promised  his  creditors  that  he  would  pay  and 
pay  he  did  to  the  last  cent  though  it  took  him  years  of 
hard  work  and  privation  to  accomplish  it.  Indeed,  the 
claims  against  him  seemed  so  enormous  that  his  friends 
jestingly  referred  to  them  as  "The  National  Debt." 

These  were  the  days  when  Lincoln  had  cause  to  be 
profoundly  grateful  to  Jack  and  Hannah  Armstrong, 
whose  hospitable  cabin  "afforded  a  grateful  shelter 
without  money  and  without  price."  Kind  "Aunt 
Nancy"  Greene  always  made  him  welcome  and  com- 
fortable and  the  friendship  of  her  husband,  Bowling 
Greene,  grew  during  this  period  until  it  was  to  prove 
the  one  help  and  comfort  Lincoln  found  in  a  desperate 
crisis  through  which  he  was  to  pass. 

At  least  one  asset  remained  to  Lincoln  from  the  days 
of  the  disastrous  store  enterprise.  This  was  an  old 
barrel  which  fell  to  his  lot  by  the  most  haphazard 
chance  and  was  destined  to  influence  him  strongly  in 
the  career  yet  before  him.  He  had  bought  this  relic 
from  a  man  who  was  going  West  in  a  wagon  with  his 
family  and  furniture.  Lincoln  didn't  want  the  barrel, 
but  out  of  the  kindness  of  his  heart  he  bought  it  for 
half  a  dollar.  Some  time  later  he  happened  to  look  into 
it  and  found  discarded  at  the  bottom  a  tattered,  dog- 
eared but  complete  edition  of  Blackstone's  "Com- 
mentaries." He  began  to  read  this  great  authority 
during  his  spare  time,  which  was  abundant  in  summer 
when  his  customers  were  busy  with  their  crops.  He 
became  fascinated  by  them  and  read  until  he  had  de- 
voured them. 


100    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

From  that  time  forward  Lincoln  definitely  devoted 
himself  to  law.    He  had  found  himself. 

Whenever  Lincoln  hit  upon  a  subject  he  wished  to 
master  he  forthwith  hunted  up  some  one  who  under- 
stood it  and  sought  his  aid.  In  this  case  he  went  to 
Major  John  Todd  Stuart,  an  able  lawyer  who  proved 
ever  ready  to  encourage  and  help  him.  From  this  slight 
beginning  their  acquaintance  was  afterwards  to  ripen 
into  the  law  partnership  of  Stuart  &  Lincoln,  and  the 
Major's  name  was  to  bear  later  significance  in  his 
junior  partner's  happiness  and  fortunes.  Major  Stuart 
lent  Lincoln  some  necessary  books  and  saw  to  it  that 
he  secured  others.  One  of  these  was  a  book  of  legal 
forms  and  with  this  Lincoln  was  soon  able  to  write  out 
most  of  the  deeds  and  contracts  current  among  his 
neighbors.  The  faithful  Bowling  Greene,  then  village 
justice,  made  every  opportunity  for  Lincoln  to  gain 
experience  in  helping  him  in  the  various  duties  of  his 
office. 

Neighbors  whose  custom  it  was  to  seek  the  good- 
hearted  Abe's  help  in  other  things,  now  went  to  him 
for  simple  legal  matters.  Dan  Burner,  a  boy  who 
clerked  for  the  unlucky  firm  of  Berry  &  Lincoln  gives 
an  example  of  such  services  as  follows : 

"My  father  sold  out  to  another  man  once  and  they 
needed  a  deed  drawn  up.  Of  course  I  knew  how  handy 
Lincoln  was  that  way,  so  I  said  let's  get  him  to  do  it. 
We  found  him  sitting  on  a  stump  and  I  told  him  what 
we  wanted.  'All  right/  he  said,  'if  you  bring  me  a  pen 
and  ink  and  a  piece  of  paper,  I  will  write  it  here/  I 
brought  them,  and  picking  up  a  shingle  and  putting  it 


STUDYING  LAW  101 

on  his  knee  for  a  desk,  he  wrote  out  the  deed  then  and 
there.,, 

Lincoln  welcomed  these  petty  cases  as  valuable  ex- 
perience and  made  no  charge  for  them.  After  the 
store,  as  he  says  "winked  out,"  he  made  no  further  at- 
tempt at  business  but  contented  himself  with  earning 
just  enough  to  keep  himself  while  he  devoted  all  the 
time  possible  to  the  study  of  law.  When  Thomas  Lin- 
coln put  an  ax  into  the  hands  of  his  seven-year-old  son 
he  gave  him  the  means  of  earning  many  a  farm  house 
meal  and  night's  sleep  in  country  feather  beds,  while 
using  spare  time  for  the  despised  "book-learning/ ' 

One  day  Russel  Godby,  a  farmer  who  hired  Abe  on 
his  farm  during  this  time,  found  Lincoln  at  noon  sit- 
ting barefoot  on  top  of  the  generous  woodpile  he  had 
just  chopped,  completely  absorbed  in  a  book.  This  was 
such  an  odd  thing  for  a  "hired  man"  to  be  doing  that 
Mr.  Godby  called  out : 

"Hey,  Abe,  what  you  doing  up  there?" 

"I'm  studying." 

"Studying,  for  the  land's  sakes !"  said  the  astonished 
farmer.    "What  you  studying  ?" 

"I'm  studying  law,"  Lincoln  answered  proudly. 

"I  stood  a  while  looking  at  him  sitting  there,"  said 
the  old  farmer,  shaking  his  head,  and  added,  "That 
was  really  a  little  too  much  for  me." 

So  the  time  passed  for  Lincoln  in  close  application 
to  study,  broken  only,  by  such  desultory  woodchopping 
as  would  earn  him  board  and  a  few  clothes.  And  then 
in  the  fall  of  1833  a  surprise  and  opportunity  lay  in 
store  for  him. 


102    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

One  autumn  day  Pollard  Simmons,  a  New  Salem 
neighbor,  found  Abe  and  said,  "I've  just  come  from 
Springfield,  and  John  Calhoun,  the  county  surveyor 
over  there,  sent  word  by  me  that  he  wants  you  to  serve 
as  deputy  surveyor  for  him." 

"Wants  me  as  deputy  surveyor!"  Abe  exclaimed, 
astonished.    "Why,  I  don't  know  how  to  survey  \" 

"Well,  that's  what  he  said,  anyway,"  Simmons  in- 
sisted. 

"He  said  he'd  heard  about  you  and  your  way  of 
studying  and  how  the  folks  call  you  Honest  Abe,  and 
he  thought  you  were  the  very  man  for  this  section. 
He  says  Sangamon  County  is  so  large  and  so  many 
people  seem  to  be  immigrating  here  now,  that  he  needs 
deputies." 

"Well,  there's  something  funny  about  it,"  Abe  per- 
sisted. "He's  a  Jackson  man  and  I'm  for  Clay.  What 
makes  a  Democrat  offer  me  an  office?  Before  I  take 
that  appointment  I'm  going  over  to  Springfield  and  see 
about  it." 

Lincoln  promptly  borrowed  a  horse  from  Bowling 
Greene  and  jogged  the  twenty  miles  to  Springfield  to 
see  Calhoun. 

"I  don't  want  an  appointment  that  ties  me  up  to  any 
political  obligation,"  he  said  frankly.  Calhoun  assured 
him  that  this  was  not  the  case. 

"I  need  a  reliable  deputy,"  said  the  surveyor,  "and 
I  don't  care  anything  about  his  politics." 

"I  don't  know  the  first  thing  about  surveying,"  said 
Lincoln. 

"Nobody  else  out  your  way  does  either,"  Calhoun 
said,  "and  from  what  I  hear  you'll  learn  all  you  need 


STUDYING  LAW  103 

soon  enough.  What  I  need  is  a  reliable  and  intelligent 
man  and  they  tell  me  you  are  that.  I'll  give  you  time 
enough  to  study  the  subject  first."  Satisfied  with  this 
proposition,  Lincoln  accepted  it,  and  then  with  the  same 
promptness  that  had  sent  him  immediately  after  the 
book  on  English  grammar,  he  bought  Flint  and 
Gibson's  treatise  on  surveying  before  he  left  Spring- 
field and  rode  home  reading  it  with  the  reins  dangling 
loose  on  the  horse's  neck. 

On  reaching  New  Salem  he  went  directly  to  his  old 
friend,  Mentor  Graham,  and  sought  his  aid.  Mr. 
Graham  generously  gave  it,  at  no  little  sacrifice  of  time, 
and  Lincoln  forthwith  plunged  into  a  "cram"  that 
alarmed  his  friends.  He  had  the  book  open  before 
breakfast  and  bent  over  it  all  day,  snatching  only  ir- 
regular meals  with  the  volume  propped  up  before  him. 
When  night  fell  Lincoln's  work  only  began.  The  long 
evenings  and  most  of  the  night  found  him  still  at  it. 
Oil  he  could  not  afford,  but  the  village  cooper  said, 
"Abe,  you  can  sit  up  all  night  in  my  shop  and  burn 
shavings  to  read  by,"  and  this  he  did  until  "Aunt 
Nancy"  interfered  and  insisted  on  his  spending  nights 
at  her  comfortable  home.  Bowling  Greene,  anxious  at 
sight  of  Lincoln's  haggard  face  and  sunken  eyes,  de- 
clared, "Abe,  you've  got  to  let  up  on  this  or  you'll  kill 
yourself."  "Yes,"  put  in  Billy  Greene,  "you  look  like 
a  scarecrow.  Now,  take  a  rest  or  you'll  be  down  sick 
in  bed."  Nevertheless,  Lincoln  kept  on  until  he  had  a 
working  knowledge  of  the  subject.  Without  waiting 
to  rest,  he  again  mounted  Mr.  Greene's  horse  and  pre- 
sented himself  before  Calhoun,  so  soon  after  his  first 
visit  that  the  surveyor  asked  what  he  wanted. 


104    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

"I  know  how  to  survey  now,"  Lincoln  reported. 

"Not  already?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

Calhoun  scrutinized  the  gaunt  figure  and  drawn  face 
of  the  earnest  man  before  him  and  felt  convinced  that 
he  had  made  no  mistake  in  his  choice  of  deputy. 

Lincoln  now  began  his  duties  and  it  was  soon  ob- 
served that  his  surveys  could  be  depended  upon  as 
accurate.  He  was  frequently  called  upon  to  settle  line 
disputes  and  as  his  reputation  as  "Honest  Abe"  spread, 
his  decisions  were  accepted  as  final. 

Lincoln  was  now  earning  three  dollars  a  day,  more 
than  he  had  ever  made  in  his  life  before.  Good  board 
and  lodging  only  cost  a  dollar  a  week,  but  Lincoln 
found  it  hard  nevertheless  to  meet  his  obligations.  His 
father  repeatedly  appealed  to  him  to  help  with  family 
expenses  and  the  store  debts  continued  to  press  heavily 
upon  him. 

His  creditors  all  proved  lenient  enough  except  one 
sharp  man  by  the  name  of  Van  Bur  en.  When  the 
note  he  held  fell  due,  Van  Buren  brought  suit.  Lincoln 
was  nearly  penniless  at  the  time.  His  surveying  trips 
took  him  on  long  circuits  which  kept  him  away  from 
New  Salem  for  weeks  at  a  time  and  forced  him  to 
invest  in  a  good  horse  and  saddle  as  well  as  in  a  sur- 
veying outfit.  He  could  not  meet  the  note  and  the  un- 
scrupulous Van  Buren  levied  upon  the  very  horse, 
saddle,  bridle  and  instruments  that  were  Lincoln's  sole 
stock  in  trade.  It  was  a  cruel  crisis  for  the  young  sur- 
veyor. But  the  very  extremity  of  the  situation  brought 
a  remedy.  It  roused  the  ire  of  "Uncle  Jimmy"  Short, 
a  prosperous   farmer  and  firm   friend  of  Lincoln's. 


STUDYING  LAW  105 

Without  a  word  of  his  plans,  Uncle  Jimmy  went  to  the 
sale  and  bought  the  horse,  harness  and  instruments  him- 
self and  took  grim  pleasure  in  handing  them  over  to  the 
surprised  Lincoln  before  Van  Buren's  very  eyes. 

Among  other  places  that  he  surveyed  in  Sangamon, 
Lincoln  laid  out  the  town  of  Petersburg  where  a  curious 
instance  of  his  kindness  of  heart  arose  to  cause  diffi- 
culties later.  Twenty  or  thirty  years  afterwards  some 
irregularity  was  found  in  property  boundaries  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  town,  but  reference  to  the  official  map 
did  not  clear  this  up.  A  committee  of  Petersburg  citi- 
zens went  to  Springfield  to  consult  the  original  surveyor 
but  Lincoln  could  not  remember  anything  to  help  them 
out  and  only  referred  them  to  the  record.  The  case 
then  went  to  court,  but  before  it  came  to  trial  an  old 
man  named  McGuire  returned  to  town  from  an  out- 
lying farm  where  he  had  been  employed  all  summer, 
and  hearing  a  discussion  of  the  subject,  he  said : 

"Why,  I  can  tell  you  all  about  that.  I  helped  carry 
the  chain  when  Abe  Lincoln  laid  out  this  town.  Over 
there  where  they  are  quarreling  about  the  lines,  when 
he  was  locating  the  street,  he  straightened  up  from  his 
instrument  and  said :  'If"  I  run  that  street  straight 
through,  it  will  cut  three  or  four  feet  off  So-and-so's 
house.  It's  all  he's  got  in  the  world  and  he  could  never 
get  another.  I  reckon  it  won't  hurt  anything  out  here 
if  I  skew  the  line  a  little  and  miss  him.'  "  The  line  had 
been  "skewed" ! 

The  kind  of  man  who  could  skew  a  line  to  save  a 
house  was  bound  to  acquire  staunch  friends,  and  as  he 
grew  older  Lincoln  found  that  he  had  attained  a  strong 
hold  upon  the  community  in  which  he  lived.    In  another 


106    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

way  he  had  grown  close  to  the  neighborhood :  through 
sharing  many  an  intimate  affair  as  village  postmaster. 
This  office  he  had  held  during  the  existence  of  the  firm 
of  Berry  &  Lincoln.  The  actual  duty  of  postmaster 
took  little  time,  for  although  mail  was  expected  once 
or  twice  a  week,  sometimes  two  or  three  weeks  slid  by 
with  none.  The  mail,  carried  from  city  to  city  by 
four-horse  stage  coaches,  was  sent  to  small  towns  like 
New  Salem  and  Gentryville  by  mail  carriers  on  horse- 
back, and  the  arrival  of  the  mail  rider  in  New  Salem 
was  attended,  as  at  Jones'  store  in  Gentryville,  by  a 
gathering  of  interested  and  expectant  citizens.  Here 
Lincoln  again  found  a  newspaper  available,  and  here 
he  officiated  at  distributing  mail,  very  often  being  asked 
to  read  aloud  letters  and  write  the  answers  for  country 
people  who  could  neither  read  nor  write  and  were  "glad 
to  get  Abe  to  do  it." 

While  acting  as  postmaster,  Lincoln  came  into  con- 
tact with  one  who  made  a  lasting  impression  on  his  life. 
The  dainty  Ann  Rutledge  regularly  appeared  to  ask 
diffidently,  "Any  mail  for  me  ?"  and  as  regularly  turned 
away  with  the  shadow  of  disappointment  in  her  eyes. 
John  McNeil,  her  lover,  who  had  left  New  Salem, 
parting  from  her  with  vows  of  faithfulness,  wrote  no 
word  to  relieve  the  hurt  in  her  heart. 

Lincoln,  watching  her  brave  bearing  in  the  face  of 
such  chagrin,  was  torn  between  desire  for  a  letter  to 
hand  her  and  a  rising  hope  that  in  time  he  himself 
might  supplant  that  other  lover. 

There  were  recreations  for  Lincoln  even  in  these 
hard  days,  and  one  in  which  he  took  especial  delight 


STUDYING  LAW  107 

was  a  debating  society,  with  James  Rutledge,  Ann's 
father,  for  its  president.  This  club  held  regular  meet- 
ings and  Abe  surprised  all  members  with  the  force, 
clarity  and  sound  reasoning  of  his  speeches.  In  fact 
Mr.  Rutledge  said  to  his  wife  after  one  meeting  at 
which  some  had  smiled  at  Lincoln's  uncouth  figure  and 
awkward  gestures:  "Let  me  tell  you,  Mother,  that 
young  man  has  more  in  his  head  than  mere  fun  and 
quick  wit,  and  the  day  is  coming  when  he  will  outstrip 
those  who  laugh  at  him  now.  He  is  already  a  fine 
speaker,  and  he  only  needs  a  little  more  culture  to  help 
him  to  make  a  name  for  himself,  which,  mark  my 
words,  he  is  bound  to  do." 

This  opinion  was  gaining  such  headway  in  the  com- 
munity that  two  years  after  his  first  defeat  at  election 
he  was  urged  to  run  again  as  candidate  for  the  State 
Legislature.  During  this  campaign  Lincoln  had  dinner 
at  harvest  time  at  the  home  of  Mr.  Rowan  Herndon. 
There  were  about  thirty  harvest  hands  at  work  in  the 
field  and  after  dinner  Mr.  Herndon  introduced  Lincoln 
to  them.  The  men  jestingly  said  that  they  would  vote 
for  no  man  who  could  not  take  a  hand  in  the  grain. 

"Well,  boys!"  said  Lincoln,  "if  that  is  all  you  want, 
I  am  sure  of  your  votes,"  and  seizing  a  cradle  he  swung 
around  the  field  ahead  of  them  all. 

During  this  campaign  Lincoln  devoted  himself  to 
advancing  his  cause  and  stumped  the  county  thor- 
oughly. To  listeners  who  have  heard  present-day 
political  speeches  by  radio,  it  will  come  as  a  surprise 
that  any  campaign  speech  could  be  so  brief  as  this  of 
Lincoln's.      Dressed   in    straw   hat,   bob-tailed,   claw- 


108    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

hammer  coat  of  homespun,  linen  pantaloons  and  "pot- 
metal"  boots,  he  mounted  a  village  platform  and  made 
this  terse  address: 

"Fellow  citizens :  I  presume  you  all  know  who  I  am. 
I  am  humble  Abraham  Lincoln.  I  have  been  solicited 
by  many  friends  to  become  a  candidate  for  the  Legis- 
lature. My  politics  are  'short  and  sweet'  like  the  old 
woman's  dance.  I  am  in  favor  of  a  national  bank.  I 
am  in  favor  of  the  internal  improvement  system,  and 
a  high  protective  tariff.  These  are  my  sentiments  and 
political  principles.  If  elected,  I  shall  be  thankful;  if 
not,  it  will  be  all  the  same." 
This  time  he  was  elected. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

ANN   RUTLEDGE 

Lincoln  had  a  new  and  strong  incentive  for  the 
ambition  which  urged  him  on  to  Legislature  this  term. 
Ann  Rutledge  had  entered  his  life  and  he  looked  for- 
ward as  never  before  toward  hopes  and  plans  for  the 
future. 

Hitherto  he  had  plodded  doggedly  ahead,  spurred  on 
perhaps  by  the  spirit  of  his  mother  within  him  by  which 
he  vaguely  sensed  the  fact  that  he  was  designed  for 
something  other  than  railsplitting,  grubbing  roots  and 
shucking  corn.  Behind  him  was  a  ne'er-do-well  family 
and  with  him  was  always  poverty.  In  striving  to  forge 
ahead  he  had  responded  thus  far  only  to  the  spirit 
within  him.  Now  for  the  first  time  a  powerful  outside 
force  urged  him  on.  A  sense  of  power  rose  with  the 
determination  to  make  the  future  yield  prospects 
worthy  of  life  with  Ann. 

Women  were  always  to  play  a  vital  part  in  Lincoln's 
progress:  the  small  flame  of  genius  received  from 
Nancy  was  fed  by  the  brisk  Sally,  fanned  to  flame  by 
Ann  Rutledge,  and  later  kept  burning  steadily  by  still 
another  woman.  At  this  period  he  was  conscious  only 
of  the  warmth  of  Ann's  own  influence. 

His  mother,  passing  from  his  life  so  long  ago,  was 
now  only  a  shadowy  figure  of  memory.  His  sister 
companion  of  those  days  had  gone.    The  robust  Sally 

109 


110    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

and  her  buxom  backwoods  daughters,  the  kindly- 
Mrs.  Crawford,  motherly  Aunt  Nancy  and  hospitable 
Hannah  Armstrong  were  all  women  more  or  less  alike 
in  his  mind  as  dispensers  of  cheer  and  comfort.  But 
in  Ann  he  found  for  the  first  time  an  intimate  personal 
insight,  understanding,  and  stimulus.  He  had  never 
before  known  any  one  like  her  nor  any  interest  like 
hers.  To  her  a  wholly  untouched  side  of  his  nature 
responded,  upon  her  he  could  lavish  the  whole  affection 
of  his  pure  and  generous  nature  in  the  tumult  of  first 
love.  His  feeling,  unsquandered  in  any  former  puppy 
love,  reached  the  intensity  of  its  fullest  strength  for 
her.  This  courtship,  which  Lincoln  had  long  craved, 
had  been  sadly  delayed  by  Ann's  loyalty  to  the  recalci- 
trant McNeil,  from  whom  no  letter  ever  came  to  ex- 
plain to  her  the  bitterness  of  his  disappearance.  This 
man  had  appeared  in  New  Salem,  giving  his  name  as 
John  McNeil.  He  afterwards  confided  honestly  enough 
to  the  Rutledges  that  his  true  name  was  McNamar. 
His  father,  who  had  been  wealthy,  suddenly  failed,  a 
misfortune  which  his  son  took  as  such  disgrace  that 
he  ran  away  from  home  and  came  west  under  another 
name  to  try  to  rebuild  the  family  fortune  and  restore 
his  father's  standing.  This  he  had  no  ability  to  accom- 
plish but  he  did  endeavor  to  pay  off  his  father's  debts 
and  plan  to  bring  his  family  from  New  York  to  Illi- 
nois. However  mistaken  the  young  man  may  have 
been,  his  intentions  appear  to  have  been  thoroughly 
honorable.  Indeed  he  seems  to  have  been  marked  as 
an  honorable  but  thoroughly  mistaken  person  through- 
out all  the  life  we  know  of  him.  Polished  and  debonair, 
he  became  New  Salem's  town  dandy,  and  thus  distin- 


ANN  RUTLEDGE  111 

guished  from  the  unassuming  village  boys,  was  natu- 
rally calculated  to  attract  the  girlish  attentions  of  the 
flower-like  Miss  Rutledge.  They  were  engaged  when 
she  was  only  seventeen  and  had  been  engaged  a  year 
when  Lincoln's  flat  boat  stranded  on  the  Rutledge  dam. 
McNamar  did  business  as  a  merchant  in  partnership 
with  a  middle-aged  man,  Mr.  Sam  Hill.  This  partner- 
ship came  to  an  abrupt  end  and  John  McNamar  left 
town  in  1832.  The  reason  for  his  departure  fell  ac- 
cidentally into  Lincoln's  hands  through  a  curious  inci- 
dent and  proved  less  trifling  than  it  seemed.  Country 
people  who  could  not  read  or  write  often  came  to  Lin- 
coln with  requests  that  he  read  this  or  write  that  for 
them,  and  it  chanced  that  some  one  of  them  picked  up 
a  letter  found  lying  in  the  road  one  day  and  as  a 
matter  of  course  brought  it  to  Lincoln  to  see  what  it 
was. 

Lincoln  opened  this  and  found  a  sheaf  of  invoices 
showing  that  in  closing  out  the  partnership  of  Hill 
&  McNeil,  Hill  had  paid  McNeil  liberally  for  his  share 
in  the  concern.  Attached  was  a  letter  to  McNeil  from 
Hill  consisting  of  the  bitterest  sort  of  personal  attack 
upon  him  for  winning  Miss  Rutledge,  an  honor  Hill 
himself  had  aspired  to,  though  he  was  twice  Ann's  age. 
This  letter  demanded  furiously  that  the  partnership  be 
dissolved  and  it  was  evidently  upon  the  proceeds  of  his 
share  that  McNeil  had  gone  back  to  New  York  and 
his  parents,  losing  the  letter  on  his  departure.  There 
was  something  so  unreasonable  and  ridiculous  in  Hill's 
stand  that  it  appealed  to  Lincoln's  lively  humor.  He 
returned  letter  and  invoices  to  Hill  but  could  not  re- 
press a  hearty  laugh  at  him.    Hill  was  a  choleric  man 


112    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

and  when  he  realized  that  Lincoln  had  read  this  letter 
of  highly  personal  nature  his  inflammable  temper  blazed 
up.  He  lost  entire  control  of  himself,  snatched  the 
manuscript  from  Lincoln's  hands,  tossed  it  into  the  fire 
and  hurled  startling  invectives  at  the  astonished  Lin- 
coln. But  the  scene  did  not  end  then.  In  1846,  four- 
teen years  later,  a  story  was  used  against  Lincoln  in 
his  Congressional  Campaign  to  the  effect  that  he  had 
written  "an  infidel  attack  upon  the  Bible  and  Christian 
religion' '  which  had  been  burned.  This  unreasonable 
and  monstrous  story  was  based  on  the  slim  fact  that  a 
manuscript  had  been  burned  by  Hill,  and  Hill  in  re- 
venge let  the  story  gain  currency.  By  that  time  Hill, 
McNamar  and  Lincoln  were  all  married  and  Lincoln 
was  too  proud  and  honorable  to  explain  the  situation 
at  the  expense  of  embarrassing  their  wives.  Thus 
McNeil's  influence  touched  Lincoln's  life  in  more  ways 
than  one. 

McNeil,  gone  from  New  Salem  though  not  from 
Ann's  memory,  blocked  Lincoln  for  three  years  in  at- 
taining his  heart's  desire.  For  a  time  letters  came  to 
Ann  from  New  York  telling  of  McNeil's  father's  ill- 
ness, then  of  the  old  man's  death,  letters  promising  to 
return,  letters  holding  her  to  the  engagement.  Then 
they  came  no  more.  For  years  she  lived  under  the 
strain  and  embarrassment  of  wounded  affection  and  of 
continually  expecting  some  explanation  and  receiving 
none.  She  received  not  even  the  satisfaction  of  release 
from  the  engagement  which  would  leave  her  free  to 
enjoy  the  love  of  another  man :  a  man  of  far  different 
caliber, — faithful  and  straightforward,  a  man  whose 
worth  other  men,  among  them  her  own  father  and 


ANN  RUTLEDGE  113 

brothers,  were  quick  to  acclaim.  In  vain  her  family 
urged  her  to  abandon  the  neglectful  McNeil  and  re- 
joice in  winning  such  a  man  as  Lincoln.  Ann  was  a 
loyal  little  soul.  She  had  grown  to  value  Lincoln's 
esteem  far  more  than  McNeil's,  but  could  not  believe 
that  McNeil  had  simply  vanished  unexplained.  He 
must  be  sick,  he /night  be  dead,  she  defended  him.  She 
could  not  feel  free  to  plight  herself  to  another  man 
without  the  certainty  of  an  honorable  release  from  the 
first.  He  might  come  back,  she  argued.  After  a  while 
it  became  clear  to  the  whole  village  that  he  would  not 
come  back  and  Ann  suffered  all  the  embarrassment  and 
pain  of  a  jilted  girl.  It  was  a  searing  experience  for 
any  girl  and  Ann  suffered  all  the  more  sharply  from 
the  keen  sensitiveness  of  her  youthful  nineteen  years. 

From  this  pain  and  bewilderment  she  was  glad  to 
turn  to  the  sure  refuge  of  Lincoln's  steadfast  love. 
Her  experience  made  her  all  the  more  tenderly  appre- 
ciative of  his  true  worth  and  she  threw  herself  whole- 
heartedly into  a  deeper,  riper  love  for  him  than  McNeil 
could  ever  have  drawn  forth.  Her  fervent  love  for 
Lincoln  was  only  equaled  by  his  historic  love  for  her. 

Lincoln's  opportunity  to  win  Ann  Rutledge  had  de- 
veloped from  closer  contact  than  that  casually  afforded 
at  Post  Office  and  Debating  Club.  For  years  he  had 
"boarded  round"  in  the  neighborhood,  getting  a  bed 
and  meals  where  he  might.  At  the  Greenes'  home  and 
Jack  Armstrong's  cabin  he  had  always  a  welcome,  but 
for  the  most  part  he  earned  a  night's  lodging  here  and 
there  or  slept  in  some  loft  or  under  the  store  counter. 
While  surveying  he  was  engaged  in  laying  out  the 
growing  town  of  New  Salem  and  boarded  with  James 


114    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

Cameron,  a  partner  of  Mr.  Rutledge's  whom  he  helped 
at  times  in  rebuilding  the  mill  and  dam  on  the  Sanga- 
mon. 

From  Cameron's  it  was  a  natural  sequence  to  the 
Rutledges'  own  home  and  here  he  lived  for  some  time 
as  a  boarder,  though  welcomed  as  one  of  the  family. 
Lincoln  shared  a  bed  with  Ann's  eldest  brother  and 
such  was  their  merry  fellowship  that  many  a  bedtime 
romp  occurred,  and  on  one  occasion  the  bed  cord  was 
broken  in  the  scuffle,  and  when  Ann,  who  was  a  house- 
wifely girl,  made  up  the  beds  next  morning,  Lincoln 
insisted  on  helping  mend  the  wreckage  and  quite  a  frolic 
ensued.  Such  was  the  congenial  atmosphere  of  the 
Rutledge  home.  After  "boarding  round"  it  must  have 
seemed  home  indeed  to  Lincoln,  who  had  grown  up  in 
the  companionship  of  a  big  family, — himself,  Sarah 
and  Dennis  as  well  as  John,  Sarah  Johnston  and 
"Tilda." 

There  were  nine  children  in  the  Rutledge  family 
and  Ann  was  third.  A  picture  of  the  background  of 
Lincoln's  and  Ann's  lives  can  be  gained  in  no  more 
vivid  way  than  through  introduction  to  this  large  and 
pleasant  family.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rutledge  were  Old 
School  Presbyterians  from  South  Carolina,  and  their 
home  was  one  of  strict  piety.  They  had  four  sons  and 
five  daughters  who  ranged  in  ages  (in  1834)  from 
Jean,  who  was  twenty-six,  a  year  older  than  Lincoln, 
down  to  little  five-year-old  Sarah.  As  there  were  only 
two  or  three  years  between  each  of  their  ages  in  turn, 
they  were  companionable  each  to  the  other  all  the  way 
down  the  ladder.  The  Rutledge  family  Bible  records 
their  dignified  and  Scottish  names  as :  Jean  Officer, 


ANN  RUTLEDGE  115 

John  Miller,  Anna  Mayes,  David  Hamilton,  Robert 
Brannon,  Nancy  Cameron,  Margaret  Armstrong,  Wil- 
liam Blackburn,  Mary  Anderson,  and  Sarah  F. 

Jean  duly  recorded  in  the  fat  Bible  as  "converted  at 
Campmeeting  in  Sangamon''  married  young  and  raised 
another  nine  children  of  her  own. 

John,  who  served  in  the  Black  Hawk  War,  is  re- 
corded in  the  same  volume  as  "converted  on  the  road 
home  from  Round  Prairie."  He  was  not  wholly 
solemn,  however,  for  it  was  he  who  slept  with  Lincoln 
and  boisterously  romped  with  him  at  bedtime. 

Next  to  him  came  Ann,  who,  so  the  family  record 
runs,  "never  made  any  profession  of  religion  but"  (it 
adds  hastily)  "she  was  a  devoted  worker  in  Church 
and  Sunday  School  and  was  regarded  as  naturally  of 
Christian  character."  We  may  rest  assured  of  this, 
for  as  Jean  soon  left  home  for  a  family  of  her  own 
Ann  became  the  eldest  sister  at  the  head  of  seven 
younger  brothers  and  sisters.  To  those  who  know 
from  family  experience  what  an  older  sister  can  mean, 
no  further  explanation  is  needed  of  Ann's  character! 
(Others  perhaps  would  not  quite  understand  it.) 

David,  the  brother  next  to  her,  and  Ann's  favorite, 
served  also  in  the  Black  Hawk  War  and  afterwards 
studied  law  and  practiced  in  Petersburg.  He  was  a 
strict  Presbyterian  of  most  upright  principles  and 
"would  not  take  a  case  unless  satisfied  he  had  the  right 
side."  It  was  David  and  his  father  who  particularly 
urged  Ann  to  accept  Lincoln,  in  the  days  when  McNeil 
was  distressingly  upon  her  mind.  His  sister  Nancy 
long  afterwards  found  tucked  away  in  the  family  Bible 
a  letter  from  David  to  "My  dear  Sister  Annie"  saying 


116    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

that  he  had  heard  in  a  letter  from  home  that  she  was 
thinking  of  joining  him  at  school  (the  same  school,  by 
the  way,  where  Billy  Greene  had  gone)  in  Jacksonville 
and  urging  her  "to  do  so  without  further  delay  and 
not  neglect  the  fleeting  moments."  It  was  dated  at 
the  time  of  her  engagement  to  Lincoln.  No  doubt  Lin- 
coln's studious  habits  had  spurred  her  own  ambition  to 
keep  pace  with  him. 

Robert  was  twelve  years  old  when  Ann's  engage- 
ment to  McNeil  began.  He  it  was  who  wrote  an  ac- 
count of  Lincoln's  life  in  the  Rutledge  household  at  the 
request  of  Mr.  Herndon,  from  which  details  are  here 
taken.  "Ann,"  he  says,  "went  to  school  to  Mr.  Graham 
who  was  successful  and  popular  as  a  teacher.  My 
sister,"  he  goes  on  to  say,  "was  esteemed  the  brightest 
mind  of  the  family,  was  studious  and  devoted  to  her 
duties  whatever  their  character,  and  had  a  remarkably 
amiable  and  lovable  disposition.  She  had  light  hair 
and  blue  eyes." 

Her  brother  continues :  "Mr.  Lincoln  studied  Kirk- 
ham's  grammar,  and  the  copy  which  he  delighted  to 
peruse  is  now  in  my  possession.  He  also  studied  natu- 
ral philosophy,  astronomy  and  chemistry.  He  had  no 
regular  teacher,  but  perhaps  received  more  assistance 
from  Mr.  Graham  than  any  other  person." 

Robert  Rutledge  adds  two  pictures  of  Lincoln  by 
saying : 

"In  illustration  of  his  goodness  and  nobleness  of 
heart,  the  following  incident  is  related.  Al  Trent,  a 
barefoot  boy,  was  engaged  one  cold  winter's  day  in 
chopping  a  pile  of  logs  from  an  old  house  or  stable 
which  had  been  pulled  down.     The  wood  was  dry  and 


ANN  RUTLEDGE  117 

hard  and  the  boy  hard  at  work  when  Lincoln  came  by 
and  asked  what  he  got  for  the  job  and  what  he  would 
do  with  the  money.  Al  said,  'A  dollar/  and,  pointing 
to  his  naked  feet,  said,  'A  pair  of  shoes/  Abe  told 
him  to  go  and  get  warm  and  he  would  chop  a  while  for 
him.  Lincoln  finished  the  work,  threw  down  the  ax 
and  told  him  to  go  and  buy  the  shoes." 

Robert  Rutledge's  manuscript  continues : 

"In  the  early  times  of  which  we  write,  an  appeal  to 
physical  strength  was  often  made  to  settle  controversies. 
To  illustrate  this  feature  of  the  society  in  which  Mr. 
Lincoln  was  mingling  it  may  be  well  to  relate  an  inci- 
dent. His  neighbors,  Henry  Clark  and  Ben  Wilcox, 
had  had  a  law  suit.  The  defeated  declared  that 
although  he  was  beaten  in  the  suit  he  could  whip  his 
opponent.  This  was  a  formal  challenge  and  was  at 
once  carried  to  the  ears  of  the  victor,  Wilcox,  and  as 
promptly  accepted.  Mr.  Lincoln  acted  as  second  for 
Clark  and  John  Brewer  for  Wilcox. 

"The  parties  met,  stripped  themselves  all  but  their 
breeches  and  Mr.  Lincoln's  principal  was  beautifully 
whipped.  These  combats  were  conducted  with  as  much 
ceremony  as  ever  graced  the  dueling  ground.  After 
the  conflict,  the  seconds  conducted  their  respective 
principals  to  the  river,  washed  off  the  blood  and  assisted 
them  to  dress.  During  this  performance  John  Brewer 
said: 

"  'Well,  Abe,  my  man  has  whipped  yours  and  I 
can  whip  you.'  Now  this  challenge  came  from  a  man 
who  was  very  small  in  size.  Mr.  Lincoln  agreed  to 
fight  provided  he  would  'chalk  out  his  size  on  Mr. 
Lincoln's  person  and  any  blow  struck  outside  of  that 


118    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

mark  would  be  counted  foul/  After  this  rally  there 
was  the  best  possible  humor,  and  all  parties  were  as 
orderly  as  if  they  had  been  engaged  in  the  most  harm- 
less amusement  or  the  best  warranted  exercise. 

"In  all  matters  of  dispute  about  horse-racing  or  any 
of  the  popular  pastimes  of  that  day,  Mr.  Lincoln's 
judgment  was  final  to  all  that  region  as  people  relied 
implicitly  upon  his  honesty,  integrity  and  impartiality." 

So  much  for  the  personal  reminiscences  of  Robert 
Rutledge. 

In  1899  ms  sister  Nancy  told,  in  a  newspaper  inter- 
view with  the  special  correspondent  of  the  Inter-Ocean, 
Fairfield,  Iowa: 

"I  was  only  a  child  when  Mr.  Lincoln  boarded  at 
our  house,  and  yet  I  remember  just  how  he  looked  and 
talked  as  if  it  were  only  last  year.  Homely?  Yes,  I 
suppose  he  was,  but  I  never  thought  of  that  then.  I 
remember  his  tall,  lank,  ungainly  figure  and  his  big  ears 
and  mouth,  but  when  he  talked  one  never  thought  of 
that.  He  was  good-natured  and  full  of  life  and  fun 
and  everybody  loved  him  so  much  that  they  never 
thought  of  his  looks.  I  can  see  him  now,  just  as  he 
looked  sitting  by  the  big  old-fashioned  fireplace,  ab- 
sorbed in  a  book  or  chatting  merrily  with  Annie,  or  one 
of  my  brothers.  He  always  came  and  went  just  as  one 
of  the  family.  I  have  the  very  book  that  he  and  Annie 
used  to  sing  songs  and  hymns  from  together. 

"Most  of  our  neighbors  called  him  'Abe,'  but  we  did 
not.  Father  and  mother  always  insisted  that  we 
must  not  address  any  one  outside  our  own  family  so 
familiarly. 

"Sister  Annie,"  Nancy  goes  on,  "was  small  with 


ANN  RUTLEDGE  119 

dark  blue  eyes,  light  brown  hair  and  a  very  fair  com- 
plexion. Every  one  said  she  was  very  pretty.  She 
was  the  second  girl  in  our  family  and  very  housewifely 
and  domestic.  I  have  seen  Mr.  Lincoln  help  her  about 
her  homely  household  tasks.  He  went  about  it  awk- 
wardly, but  always  jokingly  and  with  a  will. 

"You  have  doubtless  heard  of  the  grammar  that  Mr. 
Lincoln  heard  of  and  walked  six  miles  to  buy.  I 
studied  that  very  grammar  afterwards,  when  I  went 
to  school.  Mr.  Lincoln  and  Annie  studied  it  together 
and  he  gave  it  to  her.  It  was  an  old  Kirkham,  the 
hardest  grammar,  I  think,  anybody  ever  studied.  I 
always  kept  it  and  it  was  in  my  possession  until  my 
brother,  Captain  Robert  Rutledge,  went  to  Springfield 
to  assist  in  Mr.  Lincoln's  burial.  He  wrote  to  me  for 
it  as  they  were  collecting  Lincoln  relics  for  the  oc- 
casion. My  brother's  family  has  it  now.  Many  a  time 
have  I  seen  Mr.  Lincoln,  apparently  engrossed  in  study, 
pick  up  my  youngest  brother,  tuck  him  under  one  long 
arm  and  with  the  book  in  the  other  hand  plod  along 
unconcernedly  repeating  rules  and  Robert  yelling  and 
kicking  vigorously.  After  a  while  Mr.  Lincoln  would 
pretend  that  he  had  just  discovered  that  he  had  a  boy 
under  his  arm,  walking  off  with  him.  Every  child  in 
New  Salem  loved  him  and  enjoyed  his  quaint  jokes 
and  pranks  as  thoroughly  as  he  himself  used  to. 

"He  used  to  have  Billy  Greene  hold  the  grammar  of 
an  evening  while  he  recited  rules;  and  after  he  was 
elected  President  he  did  not  forget  his  friend  of  former 
years,  but  had  him  on  his  left  at  the  inaugural  banquet 
and  the  dignified  Secretary  Seward  on  his  right.  Mr. 
Lincoln  presented  the  two  men  to  each  other  saying, 


120    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

'Seward,  this  is  Mr.  Greene  of  Illinois/  Seward  bowed 
stiffly,  when  Mr.  Lincoln  exclaimed,  'Oh,  get  up, 
Seward,  and  shake  hands  with  Greene;  he's  the  man 
that  taught  me  my  grammar/  " 

Further  insight  which  Nancy  gives  in  the  lives  of 
Ann  and  Lincoln  comes  later.  Of  Margaret  and  Wil- 
liam, the  "little  ones"  in  the  family,  little  is  said;  Mary 
died  in  infancy,  but  Sarah,  "the  baby,"  died  in  1922, 
clear-minded  at  the  triumphant  age  of  ninety-three. 

This  was  Ann  Rutledge's  home  and  family  in  whose 
interests  Lincoln's  heart  was  so  closely  bound. 

About  the  New  Year  in  1835,  Ann  finally  told  Lin- 
coln that  she  was  his.  In  this  joy,  life  had  a  new 
meaning  for  Lincoln  and  he  looked  ahead  to  the  year 
1835  as  tne  brightest  and  happiest  he  had  ever  known. 
"She  loved  him,"  her  sister  Nancy  declares,  "with  a 
more  mature  and  enduring  affection  than  she  had  ever 
felt  for  McNeil.  They  would  have  been  married 
at  once,"  she  says,  "but  decided  to  wait  a  year  as 
Annie  wanted  to  go  to  school  a  while  longer,  and 
though  Mr.  Lincoln  was  beginning  to  have  very  high 
aspirations,  he  was  very  poor  and  both  wished  to 
better  equip  themselves  for  the  position  they  would 
eventually  occupy." 

John  Sonee,  who  knew  Lincoln  and  was  "an  eye 
witness  to  the  events  narrated  by  Robert  Rutledge 
from  boyhood,"  adds,  "Ann  Rutledge  was  a  very  ami- 
able and  lovable  woman  and  it  was  deemed  a  very  suit- 
able match,  as  they  were  in  every  way  worthy  of  each 
other." 

It  must  have  been  a  particular  joy  to  Lincoln  to  find 
his  mate  in  one  whose  interest  in  study  was  so  close 


ANN  RUTLEDGE  121 

to  his.  He  had,  in  a  sense,  led  a  lonely  existence, 
dwelling  much  in  an  inner  life  apart  and  unshared. 
Ann  entered  this  and  with  her  coming  Lincoln  felt  such 
a  quickening  of  his  powers,  such  an  opening  up  of 
those  dammed-up  emotions,  desires,  dreams  and  ambi- 
tions as  made  him  joyfully  conscious  of  a  strength  to 
reach  great  heights  for  her  sake.  He  had  something 
to  live  for  now.  Ann  Rutledge  waked  the  sleeping 
lion. 

Small  wonder  that  Lincoln,  roused,  carried  the  elec- 
tion this  time. 

The  young  legislator  knew  that  he  could  not  go  to 
the  State  Capitol  at  Vandalia  in  his  shabby  jeans,  and 
so  he  approached  one  of  his  acquaintances  one  day  in 
this  wise: 

"Smoot,  did  you  vote  for  me?" 
"I  did  that  very  thing." 

"Well,  that  makes  you  responsible,  for  I  want  to 
make  a  decent  appearance  in  the  Legislature." 
"How  much  do  you  want?" 
"About  two  hundred  dollars,  I  reckon." 
The  result  was  that  Abraham  appeared  a  few  days 
later  in  a  most  fashionable  outfit,  much  to  the  pleasure 
of  the  Rutledge  clan  and  the  pride  of  Ann.     It  was 
hard   for  her  to  believe  that  this   was   the  uncouth 
woodsman  she  had  seen  standing  on  the  river  raft  in 
his  jeans,  boots  and  battered  hat.     Not  even  McNeil, 
the  dandy,  presented  a  more  fashionable  appearance. 
That  summer  was  the  brightest  and  the  darkest  of 
his  life.     He  went  to  Vandalia,  with  his  heart  high. 
He  returned  crushed.     An  epidemic  of  malarial  fever 
broke  out  in  the  settlement  spreading  such  grief  and 


122    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

devastation  as  he  had  not  known  since  the  fatal  "milk- 
sickness"  days.  Lincoln  himself  succumbed  to  violent 
chills  and  fever,  but  persisted  in  helping  nurse  others 
more  unfortunate  than  himself.  Then  Ann  Rutledge 
succumbed.    Her  sister  Nancy  writes : 

"When  she  realized  that  she  could  not  get  well,  Annie 
wanted  to  see  Mr.  Lincoln  and  brother  David  who  was 
attending  school  at  Jacksonville.  Bowling  Greene  was 
sent  for  Mr.  Lincoln  and  McGrady  Rutledge,  our 
cousin,  for  David.  I  can  never  forget  how  sad  and 
broken  hearted  Mr.  Lincoln  looked  when  he  came  out 
of  the  room  after  his  last  interview  with  Annie.  None 
knows  what  was  said  at  that  meeting,  for  they  were 
alone  together,  except  that  he  told  a  friend  she  told 
him  to  'always  live  an  honest  and  upright  life/  'and  I 
have  always  tried  to  do  so,'  he  added." 

Nancy  said  that  Lincoln  did  not  even  have  a  picture 
of  "Sister  Annie,"  for  people  did  not  have  pictures 
taken  then  as  they  do  now,  and  he  could  only  treasure 
her  small  and  pitiful  keepsakes,  her  memory  and  the 
picture  of  her  that  lived  forever  in  his  heart.  Shortly 
after  Annie's  death  a  curious  and  unexpected  thing 
happened.  John  McNeil  returned  and  Nancy  says: 
"He  satisfactorily  explained  his  absence,  protested  his 
love  for  Annie  and  begged  my  mother  for  some  article 
which  had  been  hers,  for  a  memento.  He  lived  and 
died  near  New  Salem." 

In  the  meanwhile  Lincoln  was  prostrated  with  frantic 
grief.  There  had  been  so  little  in  his  life  of  love  and 
beauty  that  his  experience  with  Ann  went  all  the  deeper. 
For  the  few  brief  months  of  his  engagement  hope 


A  First  National  Picture.  The  Dramatic  Life  of  Abraham  Lincoln. 

HIS  FIRST  ROMANCE— WITH  ANN  RUTLEDGE. 


ANN  RUTLEDGE  123 

had  gleamed  brightly  for  the  man  in  whose  life  little 
had  been  bright  before.  Now  with  the  passing  of 
his  love,  this  gleam  snuffed  out  and  Lincoln  was 
plunged  in  a  night  of  black  despair.  He  left  Ann's 
deathbed  with  such  torture  of  agony  on  his  haggard 
face  that  friends  said  he  had  lost  his  mind. 

For  a  time  this  seemed  too  true.  A  tempest  of  grief 
and  frenzy  swept  away  all  that  had  been  his  of  faith 
and  self-control.  He  had  passed  through  other  storms 
in  mastery  of  himself,  now  grief  mastered  him.  He 
did  not  know  his  friends,  he  hardly  knew  his  own 
identity.  It  was  whispered  through  New  Salem  that 
he  was  insane.  His  friends  rallied  round  him  and 
guarded  him  from  his  own  frantic  self,  but  no  one 
had  much  influence.  Then  Bowling  Greene  came  to 
the  fore.  He  alone  seemed  able  to  control  the  frantic 
and  fever-stricken  lover.  He  coaxed  and  enticed  the 
half -conscious  Lincoln  to  his  old  familiar  home  and 
watched  him  night  and  day.  Fever  and  chills  had 
worked  such  havoc  on  Lincoln  himself  by  this  time 
that  there  was  reason  to  believe  he  might  soon  join 
his  betrothed.  A  doctor's  care  and  "Aunt  Nancy's" 
nursing  brought  him  out  of  the  valley  after  fearful 
weeks  of  illness,  raving  and  despair.  Weakened  from 
long  overwork,  overstudy,  and  lack  of  sleep,  living 
in  a  constant  strain  between  the  goad  of  ambition  and 
the  bitterness  of  poverty,  Lincoln  was  so  undermined 
in  health  and  strength  that  a  complete  breakdown 
of  body  and  mind  combined  to  make  recovery  not 
only  slow,  but  doubtful.  Rest  he  needed,  oblivion  he 
craved. 


124*    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

He  recovered  sufficiently  at  last  to  leave  the  Greenes' 
bed  and  care,  but  his  heart  was  dead,  his  will  gone.  He 
did  not  wish  to  live.  He  thought  continually  of  the 
grave  where  a  huge  field  boulder  inscribed  simply 
"Ann  Rutledge"  marked  the  end  of  his  hopes.  He 
could  not  shake  off  the  strangling  gloom  which 
clutched  him  night  and  day.  One  night  when  a  wild 
winter's  storm  beat  at  the  panes  he  sat  beside  Billy 
Greene,  "his  head  bowed  on  his  hands  while  tears 
trickled  through  his  fingers.  His  friend  begged  him 
to  control  his  sorrow  and  forget.  'I  cannot,'  moaned 
Lincoln,  'the  thought  of  the  snow  and  rain  on  her 
grave  fills  me  with  indescribable  grief.'  "  He  could  not 
conquer  himself  sufficiently  to  return  to  the  Legisla- 
ture, yet  found  no  peace  in  his  restless  mourning  over 
the  scenes  in  New  Salem,  sacred  to  the  memory  of 
such  recent  days  of  happiness.  He  went  home  to  his 
parents,  but  the  little  nephews  now  filling  the  house 
there  said  that  whenever  Uncle  Abe  tried  to  tell 
Gran'ma  about  it  "he  cried  something  dreadful.  He 
couldn't  never  talk  about  his  girl  without  he'd  cry  and 
cry  and  cry." 

The  man  whom  Nancy  Rutledge  described  as  "so 
good-natured  and  full  of  life  and  fun,"  who  "always 
enjoyed  jokes  and  pranks  and  children,"  was  now 
broken.  Melancholia  wiped  out  all  sense  of  fun.  It 
seemed  as  if  he  could  never  jest  again.  This  was  not 
the  Lincoln  that  New  Salem  knew.  His  self-control 
returned  with  the  determination  to  "work,  work, 
work,"  the  only  remedy  for  grief.  He  plunged  into 
it  with  a  fervor  that  brought  success,  but  he  was  never 
quite    the    same    Lincoln    again.     Melancholia    had 


ANN  RUTLEDGE  125 

marked  him  and  from  this  time  on  throughout  his 
life  he  was  subject  to  periods  of  the  deepest  depression. 
Ann  Rutledge  took  something  of  buoyancy  and  hope 
from  him  when  she  died,  and  for  years  he  declared, 
"My  heart  is  buried  with  that  girl." 


PART    III 
Family  Life  and  Politics 

"I  believe  I  have  made  some  mark  which  will  tell  for  the  cause 
of  civil  liberty  after  I  am  gone." 


CHAPTER  XV 

CAMPAIGNING 

Lincoln  was  candidate  for  the  same  office  again  the 
following  year,  and  he  flung  himself  into  the  campaign 
with  this  characteristic  opening  letter : 

"New  Salem,  June  13,  1836. 
"To  the  Editor  of  the  'Journal'  : 

"In  your  paper  of  last  Saturday  I  see  a  communica- 
tion over  the  signatures  of  'Many  Voters'  in  which  the 
candidates  who  are  announced  in  the  Journal  are  called 
upon  to  'show  their  hands/ 

"Agreed.     Here's  mine. 

"I  go  in  for  all  sharing  the  privileges  of  the  govern- 
ment who  assist  in  bearing  its  burdens.  Consequently, 
I  go  for  admitting  all  whites  to  the  right  of  suffrage 
who  pay  taxes  or  bear  arms  (by  no  means  excluding 
females). 

"If  elected  I  shall  consider  the  whole  people  of 
Sangamon  my  constituents,  as  well  those  that  oppose 
as  those  that  support  me. 

"While  acting  as  their  Representative,  I  shall  be 
governed  by  their  will  on  all  subjects  upon  which  I 
have  the  means  of  knowing  what  their  will  is;  and 
upon  all  others  I  shall  do  what  my  own  judgment 
teaches  me  will  best  advance  their  interests.  Whether 
elected  or  not,  I  go  for  distributing  the  proceeds  of 
the  sales  of  public  lands  to  the  several  states  to  enable 

129 


130    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OP  LINCOLN 

our  State,  in  common  with  others,  to  dig  canals,  and 
construct  railroads  without  borrowing  money  and  pay- 
ing interest  on  it. 

"If  alive  on  the  first  Monday  in  November,  I  shall 
vote  for  Hugh  L.  White  for  President. 

"Very  respectfully, 

"A.  Lincoln." 

This  was  the  kind  of  forthright  statement  suited  to 
please  the  Sangamon  voters  and  as  a  result  Lincoln  not 
only  received  more  votes  than  any  other  candidate  on 
the  legislative  ticket,  but  the  county,  which  had  always 
been  Democratic,  turned  Whig! 

Lincoln's  oratory  was  of  the  same  sturdy  and 
straightforward  style,  and  his  ready  wit  at  catching 
an  advantage  from  an  opponent  in  public  debate  won 
many  a  voter  to  him. 

His  first  appearance  as  a  stump  speaker  took  place 
at  the  Court  House  at  Springfield.  At  that  time  one 
of  the  prominent  citizens  of  the  place  was  George 
Forquer,  a  Whig  who  had  deserted  to  the  Democrats 
because  he  had  received  a  lucrative  position  as  Regis- 
trar in  the  Land  Office.  He  lived  in  the  most  preten- 
tious house  in  town,  and  its  splendor  was  surmounted 
by  the  first  lightning  rod  ever  put  up  in  Sangamon 
County !  This  novelty  was  the  talk  of  the  townspeople 
and  Lincoln  knew  of  it. 

At  the  large  meeting  there  were  several  speeches, 
and  Lincoln's  part  was  to  close  the  discussion,  which 
he  did  very  ably.  Forquer  was  not  a  candidate,  but 
he  prided  himself  on  his  public  speaking  and  so  he 
asked  permission  to  say  a  few  words  for  the  Demo- 


CAMPAIGNING  131 

crats.  It  pleased  this  fine  fellow  to  attack  and  ridicule 
the  New  Salem  candidate.  He  began  by  saying,  "This 
young  man  must  be  taken  down,  and  I  am  truly  sorry 
that  the  task  devolves  upon  me."  He  then  proceeded 
to  ridicule  Lincoln's  appearance  and  dress,  even  more 
than  his  arguments,  and  so  brutally  that  the  "Clary's 
Grove  Boys"  who  were  there  to  cheer  their  favorite 
wanted  to  get  up  and  start  a  fight. 

Lincoln,  however,  remained  poised  and  calm,  but  the 
moment  Forquer  had  finished  he  took  the  platform 
again.  He  first  annihilated  his  arguments,  one  by  one, 
systematically  and  thoroughly.  But  the  great  triumph 
was  his  conclusion  where  he  said : 

"The  gentleman  commenced  his  speech  by  saying 
that  'this  young  man,'  alluding  to  me,  'must  be  taken 
down.'  I  am  not  so  young  in  years  as  I  am  in  the  tricks 
and  trades  of  a  politician,  but,"  said  he,  pointing  to 
Forquer,  "live  long,  or  die  young,  I  would  rather  die 
now  than,  like  the  gentleman,  change  my  politics,  and 
with  the  change  receive  an  office  worth  three  thousand 
dollars  a  year,  and  then  feel  obliged  to  erect  a  lightning 
rod  over  my  house  to  protect  a  guilty  conscience  from 
an  offended  God!" 

At  another  time  he  had  a  similar  brush  with  Colonel 
Dick  Taylor,  a  pompous  and  dandified  Democratic 
orator.  This  gentleman  rode  about  in  a  carriage, 
dressed  with  many  ruffles  on  his  shirts,  with  shining 
boots,  kid  gloves,  and  flashing  diamonds  and  gold 
studs  in  his  linen,  and  with  many  charms  and  seals 
dangling  from  his  heavy  gold  watch-chain.  He  was 
obviously  different  from  the  hard-working  farmers 
whose  votes  he  sought,  but  he  persisted  in  saying  that 


132    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

he  was  one  of  the  "hard-handed  yeomanry  of  the  land." 
He  waxed  eloquently  sarcastic  about  the  Whig  aristoc- 
racy, calling  them  "rag  barons"  and  "silk-stocking 
gentry."  He  was  rather  foolish  to  shout  these  fine- 
sounding  phrases  at  Lincoln,  raw-boned  and  work- 
toughened  in  his  jeans  and  checkered  shirt.  At  one 
time  when  they  met  in  debate,  Taylor  made  such  sweep- 
ing gestures  that  the  buttons  flew  from  his  vest,  and 
all  his  ruffles,  watch-chain,  and  jewels  were  exposed. 
Lincoln  could  not  resist  the  opportunity,  so  he  pointed 
to  the  ruffles  and  called  out : 

"Behold  the  hard-fisted  Democrat!  Look,  gentle- 
men, at  this  specimen  of  bone  and  sinew,  and  here, 
gentlemen,"  said  he,  pointing  to  himself,  "here  at  your 
service — here  is  your  aristocrat!  Here  is  one  of  your 
'silk  stocking  gentry !'  "  He  spread  out  his  hands. 
"Here  is  your  'rag  baron'  with  his  'lily  white  hands/ 
Yes,  I  suppose  I,  according  to  my  friend  Taylor,  am  a 
'bloated  aristocrat !'  " 

The  contrast  was  so  obvious  that  the  crowd  burst 
into  shouts  of  laughter  and  approval.  Lincoln's  repu- 
tation as  a  speaker  was  established. 

There  were  nine  Sangamon  delegates  to  the  State 
Legislature:  two  senators  and  seven  representatives, 
and  it  happened  that  year  that  each  of  these  nine  coun- 
trymen were  over  six  feet  tall,  so  that  they  were  nick- 
named "The  Long  Nine,"  while  Lincoln,  the  tallest  of 
them  all,  was  known  as  "the  Sangamon  Chief." 

It  is  interesting  to  see  who  were  colleagues  in  the 
"Long  Nine,"  for  some  of  them  were  to  play  further 
parts  in  Lincoln's  life.  There  were  Edward  D.  Baker 
and  John  J.  Hardin,  who  became  his  firmest  personal 


CAMPAIGNING  133 

friends;  Ninian  W.  Edwards,  brother-in-law  to  Mary 
Todd  of  subsequent  renown,  and  none  other  than 
Stephen  A.  Douglas  himself,  who  was  to  prove  doubly 
a  rival. 

Two  important  measures  were  fostered  by  Lincoln 
during  this  term :  he  was  foremost  in  securing  a  change 
of  the  State  Capital  from  Vandalia  to  Springfield,  and 
he  struck  his  first  blow  against  slavery.  There  were 
several  leading  towns  competing  for  the  privilege  of 
being  state  capital  at  that  time,  among  them  Peoria, 
Vandalia,  Jacksonville  and  Springfield.  Lincoln  cham- 
pioned Springfield,  and  that  Springfield  won  was  ac- 
credited to  Lincoln's  common  sense  and  shrewd  tactics. 
The  honor  won,  Springfield  was  to  raise  $50,000  to- 
ward financing  a  capitol  building,  the  state  to  pay  an- 
other $50,000.  This  sum  seemed  overwhelming  to  the 
small  town,  for  it  boasted  not  a  thousand  citizens  at 
that  time.  Stephen  A.  Douglas  accordingly  suggested 
an  adroit  measure  to  release  the  town  from  this  heavy 
obligation,  but  Lincoln  stoutly  declared,  "We  have  the 
benefit;  let  us  stand  by  our  obligations  like  men,"  and 
saw  the  measure  successfully  financed. 

Of  more  significance  than  this  piece  of  legislative 
service  was  Lincoln's  first  stroke  against  slavery.  Illi- 
nois was  settled  chiefly  by  emigrants  from  slave  states 
so  that  the  feeling  against  "Abolitionists"  here  was  as 
bitter  as  in  the  south.  It  required  courage  to  risk 
political  success  by  taking  an  anti-slavery  stand  in  the 
face  of  violent  prejudice.  There  was  a  set  of  laws  in 
Illinois  then,  called  'The  Black  Code,"  which  consisted 
"of  the  most  revolting  cruelty  and  severity"  toward 
negroes.    "The  Black  Code"  ran  so  counter  to  Lincoln's 


134    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

spirit  of  mercy  and  justice  that  at  any  cost  to  himself 
he  could  not  let  it  stand  unchallenged  when  he  was  in 
a  position  to  attempt,  as  he  had  aspired,  to  hit  slavery 
and  "hit  it  hard." 

He  therefore  drew  up  a  protest  and  to  appease  preju- 
dice based  it  diplomatically  on  the  grounds  of  "bad 
policy."  He  signed  this  and  presented  it  to  the  House 
for  other  signatures.  There  were  over  one  hundred 
members  in  the  House,  but  only  one  single  man,  Dan 
Stone,  dared  add  his  name  to  Lincoln's.  The  measure 
fell  through,  but  it  marked  the  Emancipator's  first  step 
toward  abolition. 

The  Legislative  term  ended  in  raw  March,  1837, 
and  the  "Long  Nine"  set  out  for  home,  eight  mounted 
on  horseback,  Lincoln  swinging  powerfully  along  with 
them  on  foot.  Like  most  backwoodsmen,  he  could 
walk  nearly  as  fast  as  a  horse  and  as  his  long  legs 
strode  on  short  cuts  through  dry  fields  while  the  riders 
floundered  along  the  muddy  roads,  he  kept  up  with 
his  companions  all  the  way  on  a  trip  that  took  them 
four  days.  No  doubt,  to  enjoy  his  company  and  banter 
they  found  it  more  congenial  to  set  their  pace  to  his, 
as  had  his  fellows  on  the  homeward  tramp  from  the 
Black  Hawk  War.  One  repartee  of  the  journey  re- 
veals the  fact  that  even  yet  poverty  marked  Lincoln's 
dress.  Poorly  protected  from  the  raw  March  wind,  he 
shivered  and  said : 

"Boys,  I'm  cold." 

"No  wonder,"  came  the  unfeeling  retort,  "there's 
so  much  of  you  on  the  ground !" 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A.    LINCOLN,    ATTORNEY-AT-LAW 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  Legislative  session  that 
spring,  Lincoln  made  up  his  mind  that  he  could  now 
abandon  his  hand-to-mouth  existence  in  New  Salem 
and  launch  out  for  himself  as  a  practicing  lawyer  in 
Springfield.  The  familiar  scenes  in  New  Salem  roused 
such  sadness  in  his  heart  that  he  felt  forced  to  leave 
them  for  his  peace  of  mind,  and  believed  it  best  to 
accept  the  advice  of  Springfield  friends  who  urged  him 
to  come  there. 

He  promptly,  though  reluctantly,  parted  from  his 
old  friends  in  New  Salem,  sold  his  surveying  instru- 
ments, and  packing  up  his  scant  clothing  and  few  books, 
that  same  blustering  March,  he  borrowed  a  horse  once 
more  from  the  faithful  Bowling  Greene  and  set  his 
face  toward  Springfield.  At  his  back  was  the  village 
to  which  he  had  come  on  his  first  independent  venture 
after  leaving  his  father's  home  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
one.  Here  he  had  begun  work  with  nothing  and  com- 
menced a  brilliant  career.  Here  he  had  loved  and  lost. 
He  had  taken  a  hand  in  New  Salem's  growth,  sur- 
veyed it,  watched  it  grow  and  then  dwindle  as  the 
Petersburg  he  had  also  platted  threatened  to  outgrow 
and  swallow  its  identity.  Perhaps  there  was  even 
some  premonition  in  his  mind  as  he  left  of  the  little 
muddy  town's  ultimate  decay,  for  less  than  a  year  after 
Lincoln's  departure  New  Salem  was  no  more. 

135 


136    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

He  rode  along,  sunk  in  sad  thought  as  New  Salem, 
and  its  scenes  of  so  much  work,  study,  happiness,  and 
sorrow  slipped  out  of  sight  in  the  woods  behind  him. 
Arriving  in  Springfield,  he  shook  off  the  melancholy 
which  enveloped  him  and  determined  to  start  the  future 
and  new  fortunes  bravely.  Once  more  he  found  him- 
self homeless  and  without  money. 

The  saddle-bags  contained  all  his  worldly  goods  and 
it  must  have  been  hard  not  to  feel  forlorn  as  he  tied 
his  horse  at  the  public  hitching  rack  in  the  Springfield 
square,  and  made  his  way  into  a  nearby  store. 

A  good-natured  fellow  by  the  name  of  Speed  was 
the  proprietor  and  he  greeted  Lincoln  heartily  and 
assured  him  that  Springfield  was  better  than  New 
Salem.  Lincoln  had  purchased  a  single  bedstead  sec- 
ond-hand, and  he  wanted  Speed  to  figure  up  what  a 
tick,  blankets,  etc.,  would  cost. 

"Oh,  around  seventeen  dollars,  I  reckon." 

Poor  Lincoln!  All  he  could  say  was,  "I  had  no 
idee  it  would  cost  that  much.  Well,  if  you  can  trust 
me  till  Christmas  I  can  get  them,  I  guess." 

"Pshaw,"  cried  the  big-hearted  Speed.  "Go  sell 
back  your  bedstead.  I  got  a  double  bed  upstairs  and 
you  can  sleep  with  me  till  you  git  straightened  out. 
It's  upstairs  behind  a  pile  of  barrels." 

Lincoln  ran  out  for  his  saddle-bags,  and  as  he  car- 
ried them  up  the  stairs  he  called  over  his  shoulder : 

"Thanks  to  you,  Speed,  I've  moved!" 

Thus  Lincoln  the  lawyer  came  to  Springfield.  It 
was  not  a  prepossessing  place  in  which  to  win  fame. 
There  were  no  pavements  and  the  road  crossings  had 
stumps  driven  in  as  stepping  stones  across  the  mud. 


A.  LINCOLN,  ATTORNEY-AT-LAW       137 

Here  Lincoln  planned  his  future.  During  his  terms  as 
Representative  he  had  taken  advantage  of  the  State 
Library  in  Vandalia  to  complete  his  law  studies  and 
was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  1836,  although  his  name 
does  not  appear  on  the  records  until  '37.  The  list  of 
Springfield  attorneys  then  included  many  famous 
names  of  men  whose  lives  were  linked  with  the  future 
President's.  These  included  Lincoln's  fast  friend,  Ed- 
ward D.  Baker,  the  overbearing  Forquer  of  lightning 
rod  fame;  Dan  Stone,  sole  signer  of  Lincoln's  petition; 
Ninian  W.  Edwards,  brother-in-law  to  Mary  Todd; 
Stephen  A.  Douglas,  now  Registrar  of  the  Land  Office 
in  place  of  Forquer,  and  John  T.  Stuart,  the  attorney 
who  had  first  lent  Lincoln  law  books.  Lincoln  arrived 
in  Springfield  in  muddy  March.  Before  the  end  of 
that  April  John  T.  Stuart,  who  had  a  well-established 
and  successful  law  practice,  had  taken  Lincoln  into 
partnership.  The  firm  of  Stuart  &  Lincoln  continued 
until  the  April  of  1841,  a  gloomy  year  that  marked 
more  than  the  severance  of  Lincoln's  connections  with 
John  Todd  Stuart. 

The  law  office  of  Stuart  &  Lincoln  was  just  above 
the  court  room,  and  here  Mr.  Lamon  tells  us  "the 
junior  partner  was  to  be  found  pretty  much  all  the 
time  'reading,  abstracted  and  gloomy.'  A  trap  door 
in  the  office  floor  opened  down  into  the  court  room 
below.  In  the  court  room  one  day  Edward  D.  Baker 
was  making  a  speech  while  Lincoln  sat  in  the  office 
above.  Baker's  speech  offended  some  Democrats  who 
were  present  and  a  commotion  arose  with  cries  of 
Tull  him  down !'  A  general  fight  was  imminent  when 
Lincoln's  long  legs  appeared  through  the  hole  in  the 


138    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

ceiling  and  his  towering  figure  dropped  to  the  plat- 
form beside  his  friend,  as  he  cried  out,  'Gentlemen, 
let  us  not  disgrace  the  age  and  country  in  which  we 
live.  This  is  a  land  where  freedom  of  speech  is  guar- 
anteed. Mr.  Baker  has  a  right  to  speak  and  ought 
to  be  permitted  to  do  so.  I  am  here  to  protect  him 
and  no  man  shall  pull  him  from  this  stand  if  I  can 
prevent  it/  " 

One  of  his  first  cases  in  Springfield  was  a  criminal 
one  which  there  was  small  chance  of  winning.  How- 
ever, he  worked  with  might  and  main  at  it,  and  when 
he  won,  he  was  presented  with  five  hundred  dollars. 
This  was  more  money  than  he  had  ever  had  before 
in  his  life.  He  sat  down  at  the  courtroom  table,  spread 
out  his  wealth  before  him  and  was  wondering  what  to 
do  with  it  when  the  Judge  came  in. 

"If  I  only  could  earn  two  hundred  and  fifty  more/' 
he  told  him,  "I'd  buy  a  plot  of  ground  and  settle  it  on 
my  old  stepmother." 

"If  that's  all  that  prevents  you,"  replied  the  Judge, 
"I'll  lend  you  the  money  and  take  your  note  for  it. 
But  don't  settle  the  land  on  her.  Give  her  the  use  of 
it  for  life,  and  have  it  revert  to  you  at  her  death." 

"Not  at  all,"  was  Lincoln's  instant  reply.  "I'm  not 
going  to  give  it  halfway.  After  all  it's  a  poor  return 
for  her  years  of  kindness  to  me." 

There  was  "no  half  way  business"  about  this  trans- 
action nor  in  any  of  his  other  provisions  for  his  be- 
loved stepmother,  as  we  shall  see  later  on. 

The  Judge  who  made  this  generosity  promptly  pos- 
sible for  Lincoln  was  a  fast  friend  of  his  who  thor- 
oughly enjoyed  matching  wits  with  him  and  delighted 


A.  LINCOLN,  ATTORNEY-AT-LAW       189 

to  try  to  outdo  Lincoln  at  pranks.  A  return  of  some 
of  Lincoln's  early  sense  of  fun  is  seen  in  the  manner 
in  which  he  outwitted  the  bantering  Judge  in  a  horse 
trade.  It  was  jestingly  agreed  that  the  pair  should 
swap  horses  "sight  unseen"  at  nine  o'clock  one  morn- 
ing and  no  backing  out  on  penalty  of  a  fine  of  twenty- 
five  dollars.  The  Judge  exulted  in  his  success  in  round- 
ing up  one  of  the  saddest,  sway-backed  specimens  of 
knee-sprung,  foundered  horseflesh  any  one  would  ever 
care  to  see.  He  was  slapping  his  knees  and  guffawing 
at  having  outdone  Abe  this  time,  when  Lincoln  blithely 
appeared  carrying  a  wooden  sawhorse.  One  glance 
at  the  sorry  old  nag  and  Lincoln  declared,  "Judge,  this 
is  the  first  time  I  ever  got  the  worst  of  it  in  a  horse 
trade." 

So  the  robust  humor  of  former  days  began  to  re- 
turn to  the  melancholy  Lincoln  after  he  had  lived  a 
time  in  new  surroundings.  An  example  of  his  merri- 
ment occurred  one  day  when  an  old  wagon  maker  sent 
his  son  post-haste  for  Lincoln  in  a  last-minute  emer- 
gency to  defend  him  in  a  case  already  going  on  in  court. 
The  youth  found  Lincoln  not  absorbed  in  any  law 
book,  but  on  his  hands  and  knees  playing  marbles  with 
some  small  boys  on  the  street.  Lincoln  climbed  into  the 
waiting  buggy  and  the  pair  drove  off.  Lincoln  was 
still  in  such  high  spirits  from  his  frolic  with  the  gleeful 
children  that  he  regaled  the  wagon  maker's  son  with 
one  droll  story  after  another,  until  the  boy,  holding 
his  sides  and  wiping  his  eyes  with  laughter,  drove  the 
horse  into  a  ditch  upsetting  and  breaking  the  buggy. 
Leaving  the  boy  with  the  horse,  Lincoln  hurried  on 
to  court  and  won  the  case.     The  wagon  maker,  de- 


140    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

lighted,  asked  how  much  he  owed :  "I  hope  you  don't 
think  ten  or  fifteen  dollars  too  much/'  Lincoln  said,  "I 
smashed  your  buggy  on  the  way  and  want  to  pay  for 
repairs." 

Jest  and  sadness  checkered  Lincoln's  career  daily. 
Outwitting  some  wag  at  a  prank  one  day,  on  the  next 
he  might  figure  in  some  tragedy  which  shadowed  the 
court  room.  The  man  who  had  dared  prepare  an  anti- 
slave  petition  in  the  face  of  a  hostile  Legislature  did 
not  hesitate  now  at  the  risk  of  his  own  political  suc- 
cess to  champion  the  cause  of  negro  defendants  whose 
wretched  cases  came  to  court  in  questions  of  their 
freedom.  Once  confronted  by  a  fugitive  slave  who 
frantically  pleaded  his  protection,  Lincoln  uttered  these 
prophetic  words :  "As  the  law  stands  I  cannot  legally 
aid  you  to  escape,  but  I  can  change  the  law  and  with 
the  help  of  God  I  shall  do  so  though  it  cost  me  my 
lifer'  This  was  the  solemn  undercurrent  in  his  devo- 
tion to  the  law.  With  this  purpose  ever  before  him 
he  continued  his  country  town  practice.  Often  in 
handling  petty  cases  he  resorted  to  such  comic  appeals 
that  casual  spectators  little  guessed  the  deeper  and 
more  solemn  strain  within  him.  Such  an  instance 
occurred  in  court  one  day  in  countering  with  an  oppo- 
nent who  had  all  the  advantage  of  the  technical  points 
of  law  on  his  side  though  not  the  actual  moral  right. 
It  was  a  sultry  day  and  the  other  lawyer,  in  the  free 
and  easy  country  court  room  manner,  took  off  his 
coat  and  vest  to  be  more  comfortable.  This  revealed 
the  fact  that  he  wore  a  "new-fangled"  shirt  which 
fashionably  buttoned  behind,  instead  of  down  the  chest 
like  the  shirts  on  the  broad  bosoms  of  his  plain  country 


A.  LINCOLN,  ATTORNEY-AT-LAW       141 

jurymen.  Lincoln  won  the  case  with  a  laugh  raised 
by  this  summary:  "Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  havirfg 
justice  on  my  side,  I  don't  think  you  will  be  at  all 
influenced  by  the  gentleman's  pretended  knowledge  of 
the  law  when  you  see  he  does  not  even  know  which 
side  of  his  shirt  should  be  in  front/' 

Like  David  Rutledge,  Lincoln  "refused  to  take  a 
case  unless  he  knew  his  side  was  right."  This  prin- 
ciple he  adhered  to  steadily  throughout  his  practice 
as  a  member  of  the  subsequent  firm  of  Logan  & 
Lincoln  and  Lincoln  &  Herndon.  One  day  a  client 
came  to  him  and  after  hearing  his  side  of  the  case, 
Lincoln  teetered  around  in  his  swing  chair  and  said: 

"Well,  you  have  a  pretty  good  case  in  technical  law, 
but  a  pretty  bad  one  in  equity  and  justice.  You'll  have 
to  get  some  other  fellow  to  win  this  case  for  you.  I 
couldn't  do  it.  All  the  time  while  talking  to  the  jury 
I'd  be  thinking,  'Lincoln,  you're  a  liar,'  and  I  believe 
I  should  forget  myself  and  say  it  out  loud." 

At  another  time  Lincoln  discovered,  in  the  middle 
of  a  case  then  going  on  in  court,  that  his  client  had 
practiced  fraud.  He  strode  out  of  the  court  room  in 
disgust  and  refused  to  return  and  finish  the  case.  To 
the  messenger  who  came  after  him  with  word  that 
the  Judge  told  him  to  come  back,  he  said,  "You  tell 
the  judge  that  my  hands  are  dirty  and  I've  gone  to 
wash  them." 

Another  time  when  consulted  by  a  would-be  client 
who  wanted  to  foreclose  a  mortgage  Lincoln  blurted 
out: 

"Yes,  we  could  win  your  case  without  doubt  and 
turn  this  widow  and  her  six  little  children  out  onto 


142    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

the  streets,  and  you  would  have  your  six  hundred 
dollars.  It  is  legally  all  right,  but  morally  it  don't  hold 
water.  Now  here's  some  advice  for  which  I  make 
no  charge.  You  appear  to  be  an  energetic,  up  and 
coming  fellow.  Why  not  go  out  and  earn  six  hundred 
dollars  some  other  way?" 

Lincoln  was  indignant  at  the  popular  belief  that  a 
lawyer  need  not  be  honest.  "If  you  cannot  be  honest 
and  be  a  lawyer  too,  don't  be  a  lawyer,"  was  his  advice. 
"Choose  some  other  occupation  rather  than  one  in  the 
choosing  of  which  you  do,  in  advance,  consent  to  be  a 
knave/* 


CHAPTER  XVII 

MARY   TODD 

Summertime  of  the  year  1839  brought  with  it  an 
incident  which  roused  new  hope  and  interest  in 
Lincoln's  heart. 

Mrs.  Ninian  W.  Edwards  gave  a  ball  for  her  visit- 
ing sister,  Miss  Mary  Todd,  of  Kentucky.  Miss  Todd 
was  quite  a  belle  in  Lexington  and  thoroughly  enjoyed 
social  gayety.  That  the  muddy  little  Western  town 
(State  Capital,  though  it  was)  might  not  prove  dull 
for  this  young  lady,  Mrs.  Edwards  invited  all  the 
leading  young  men  of  Springfield,  little  dreaming  how 
illustrious  some  of  these  guests  were  to  become. 

To  this  festive  affair  Lincoln  was  invited.     Such 

functions  seemed  ordeals  to  him,  and  he  might  very 

likely  have  shirked  attendance  at  what  proved  to  be  a 

vital  occasion  for  him,  had  not  his  friends  prevailed  on 

him  to  join  them.     Parties  like  this  were  welcome 

breaks  in  the  small  town  routine  and  the  young  men 

were  gay  at  the  prospect  and  chaffed  one  another  about 

the  charming  newcomer.     Lincoln's  protest  that  he 

did  not  want  to  go  they  shouted  down.    Of  course  he 

was  going,  they  were  all  going.    Ninian  Edwards  said 

it  was  nothing  but  a  little  old  party  up  at  his  house 

and  he'd  better  come.     Dan  Stone  was  going  and  he 

told  Lincoln  he'd  better  come  along  and  be  nice  to 

the  girls  and  not  let  Douglas  get  ahead  of  him  with 

the  much-talked-of  Kentucky  beauty.     Ed  Baker  not 

143 


144    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

only  told  him  he'd  got  to  go  but  forcibly  inserted  the 
protesting  Lincoln's  six  feet  four  into  somewhat  snug 
evening  clothes  and  masterfully  girt  Lincoln's  long 
gaunt  neck  into  a  conventional  stock.  Lincoln  an- 
nounced that  he  was  miserable,  but  Baker  said,  "Oh, 
come  along,  you  look  so  handsome  the  visiting  lady 
is  going  to  fall  in  love  with  you." 

The  evening  was  a  great  success  and  as  it  advanced 
Lincoln  was  surprised  to  find  himself  becoming  less 
and  less  miserable  and  although  usually  shy  among 
young  ladies,  with  Miss  Todd  he  began  to  feel  more 
and  more  at  ease.  It  had  been  years  since  Lincoln  felt 
such  a  stir  of  interest  It  amazed  yet  fascinated  him. 
Dancing  began  and  Miss  Todd  found  herself  the  center 
of  an  eager  group.  Her  popularity  had  not  been  over- 
rated. Lincoln  found  himself  watching  her  steadily 
wherever  she  moved  about  the  room;  he  felt  himself 
drawn  near  her  even  when  he  could  not  quite  bring 
himself  to  clear  the  lump  of  embarrassment  in  his 
throat  and  break  into  conversation  with  her.  He  dis- 
covered himself  edging  in  from  the  outer  rim  of  the 
circle  about  her  and  finally  mustered  the  courage  to 
say  huskily  in  his  awkward  way: 

"Miss  Todd,  I  should  like  to  dance  with  you  the 
worst  way." 

Miss  Todd  gracefully  complied  and  hobbled  around 
with  her  awkward  swain,  serenely  ignoring  tramped 
toes,  uncertain  rhythm  and  bumps  from  other  spinning 
couples. 

"Well,"  whispered  one  of  the  girls  to  her  mis- 
chievously as  she  limped  back  to  her  place,  "did  he 
dance  with  you  the  worst  way  ?" 


MARY  TODD  145 

"Yes,"  laughed  Miss  Todd,  ruefully,  and  added  with 
emphasis,  "The  very  worst  possible!" 

Undaunted,  Lincoln  still  hovered  near,  but  the  suave 
and  polished  Douglas  succeeded  in  monopolizing  the 
guest  of  honor.  Lincoln  watched  the  couple  with 
perhaps  some  little  rising  resentment  of  Douglas's  easy- 
success.  He  comforted  himself  with  the  knowledge 
that  Douglas  had  arrived  in  Springfield  but  a  few  years 
before  with  only  thirty-seven  cents  in  his  pocket,  a 
ragged  journey- worn  boy  adventuring  from  Vermont 
to  seek  his  fortune  in  the  West.  His  social  aplomb 
was  more  assured  than  Lincoln's,  but  he  had  surely 
won  no  higher  place  than  Lincoln  had  achieved  as  suc- 
cessful legislator,  orator  and  well-established  lawyer. 
Summing  up  his  own  triumphs  to  stiffen  his  courage, 
Lincoln  determined  not  to  feel  that  Douglas  could 
outdo  him.  Lincoln  then  exerted  himself  to  join  that 
ring  of  black-coated  figures  about  Miss  Todd  which 
was  successfully  preventing  her  from  thinking  the  West 
a  dull  place. 

Miss  Todd  was  short,  dark,  plump,  and  vivacious, 
accustomed  to  admiration  and  so  socially  at  ease  that 
she  put  others  at  ease  by  her  own  poise.  This  Lincoln 
responded  to  as  he  had  responded  to  nothing  else  in  any 
girl  for  years.  Her  quick  wit  and  clever  repartee  at- 
tracted him  and  stirred  his  own  humor.  In  fact  Mary 
Todd  impressed  him.  He  went  home  from  the  party 
with  her  vividly  in  mind.  Something  about  her  chal- 
lenged him,  he  wanted  another  encounter.  The  oppor- 
tunity for  it  came  and  this  time  no  one  had  to  urge 
him  to  go. 

In  fact,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  began  to 


146    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

think  about  his  dress  and  attend  to  other  niceties 
and  points  of  social  grace.  This  was  a  new  Lincoln. 
It  was  an  effort  nevertheless  for  him  to  maintain 
clothes  fit  for  the  occasions  that  now  rose.  He  stead- 
ily earned  a  satisfactory  income  but  this  was  swallowed 
up  in  remittances  to  his  unsuccessful  father,  in  pay- 
ment of  such  debts  as  he  still  owed  on  the  unlucky 
store,  to  the  Judge  for  money  on  his  step-mother's 
land  purchase,  and  to  Smoot  for  that  first  set  of  Legis- 
lative clothes.  He  rarely  kept  enough  cash  free  to 
dress  well  on,  and  this  had  never  bothered  him  before. 
Now  it  began  to  embarrass  him  that  his  wardrobe  was 
so  limited  that  when  a  friend  asked,  "Abe,  can  you  lend 
me  a  b'iled  shirt  ?"  he  had  to  answer,  "Well,  I've  only 
got  two,  the  one  I've  just  taken  off,  and  the  one  I 
have  on.     Which  do  you  want?" 

Surely  Mary  Todd  had  awakened  an  unused  side 
of  his  nature.  She  diverted  him  into  channels  so  un- 
familiar to  him  that  his  interest  grew.  The  summer 
passed  in  festivities,  her  companionship  and  the  grow- 
ing rivalry  of  Stephen  A.  Douglas  as  a  lover.  This 
experience  drove  away  the  melancholia  that  had  long 
marked  Lincoln.  He  brightened  and  found  spirit  to 
enter  into  work  and  recreations  with  a  zest  that  had 
long  been  dead  within  him. 

In  the  meanwhile  her  sister  teased  Mary  about  her 
two  Springfield  lovers.  A  political  campaign  had 
opened  which  promised  well  for  Douglas,  and  Mrs.  Ed- 
wards said  banteringly,  "Mary,  you  had  better  take 
him,  I  think  he  is  going  to  be  a  Senator !"  "Ah,"  said 
Miss  Todd,  "but  I  think  the  other  one  may  be  Presi- 
dent!" at  which  sally  both  women  laughed  heartily. 


MARY  TODD  14*7 

This  remark  may  have  been  only  a  pleasantry,  but  It 
exhibits  the  uncanny  intuition  for  which  Mary  Todd 
became  famous.  Her  premonitions  were  prophetic,  her 
insight  into  people  so  astute  that  they  were  well-nigh 
clairvoyant,  and  this  quality  marked  her  from  the  first 
as  an  excellent  mate  for  a  leader  in  public  affairs.  Miss 
Todd  had  a  brilliant  mind  and  a  lively  interest  in  all 
matters  political.  She  enjoyed  society  and  public  life. 
Intensely  ambitious,  she  has  been  accused  of  being 
coldly  calculating  in  her  efforts  to  reach  the  highest 
social  peak.  This  point,  unduly  emphasized,  has  been 
based  upon  the  girlish  boast  which  was  always,  even 
in  school  days :  "I'm  going  to  marry  the  President  of 
the  United  States." 

Her  early  background  was  as  different  from  Lincoln's 
as  could  possibly  be  imagined.  Like  him  she  was  born 
in  Kentucky,  but  Mary  Todd  was  reared  there  in  wealth 
in  the  social  center  of  Lexington.  She  had  the  best 
education  afforded  to  girls  in  those  days.  She  attended 
a  private  school  of  high  standing,  kept  by  a  cultured 
French  lady,  and  as  nothing  but  French  was  spoken  at 
this  school,  she  became  so  conversationally  fluent  in 
"the  court  language"  as  to  be  well  fitted  for  diplo- 
matic circles  abroad. 

Like  Lincoln,  she  had  a  step-mother,  but  unlike  him, 
she  found  hers  so  uncongenial  that  as  soon  as  she  fin- 
ished school  she  chose  to  live,  not  at  her  father's  home 
in  Kentucky,  but  with  her  two  sisters,  Mrs.  Edwards 
and  Mrs.  Wallace,  in  Springfield,  Illinois. 

There  was  further  reason  in  her  residing  in  Spring- 
field, for  here  other  relatives  also  lived,  influential  in 
the  Capital,  who  had  brought  with  them  the  cultured 


148    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

customs  and  courtesies  of  Kentucky  society,  as  different 
as  might  be  from  pioneer  crudities.  Major  John  Todd 
Stuart,  Lincoln's  law  partner,  was  one  of  the  Ken- 
tucky Todds  and  Mary's  cousin.  There  were  besides, 
of  high  standing  in  the  community,  Dr.  John  Todd 
and  his  family ;  as  well  as  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Wallace ;  and 
Mrs.  Ninian  Edwards,  her  eldest  sister,  whose  father- 
in-law,  one-time  Governor  and  Senator,  commanded 
the  utmost  respect.  A  contrast  these,  to  Tom  Lincoln, 
who  scorned  "book-learning,"  and  the  lovable  and  lively 
Sally  Bush  with  her  forty-dollar  bureau !  Mary  Todd, 
therefore,  fortified  by  influential  relatives,  had  full 
reason  to  feel  at  home  in  Springfield. 

Mary  Todd's  ambition  seems  to  have  been  to  marry 
a  man  of  highest  prominence,  and  in  his  advancement 
exert  all  the  talents  with  which  she  was  so  fittingly 
endowed.  This  she  was  destined  to  do  with  the  utmost 
success. 

Within  her  choice  now  were  two  suitors  of  the 
greatest  promise :  one  tall,  awkward,  and  unpreposses- 
sing; the  other  short,  pleasing  and  graceful.  To  the 
everlasting  credit  of  her  heart  and  renowned  intuition 
she  chose  the  better  man.  Mary  Todd  was  not  wholly 
calculating.  Her  nature  was  warmly  emotional  and 
perhaps,  as  her  later  life  evinced,  too  sensitive.  Her 
own  sound  judgment  prompted  her  to  value  Lincoln's 
habits  and  principles  above  those  of  the  more  charm- 
ing Douglas. 

Her  social  pose  and  shrewd  political  instinct  were 
in  strange  contrast  with  the  quiet,  homely  virtues  of 
Ann  Rutledge.  Miss  Todd  used  to  pit  the  wits  of 
Douglas  and  Lincoln  brilliantly  together  in  her  sister's 


MARY  TODD  149 

drawing  room  eleven  years  before  they  clashed  in  the 
famous  public  debates.  Sharp  contrast  this  to  the 
evenings  spent  with  the  little  Rutledge  girl  singing 
hymns  from  a  well-worn,  green-backed  book  at  an  asth- 
matic parlor  organ!  Perhaps  it  was  her  very  differ- 
ence from  Ann  Rutledge  that  made  it  possible  for 
Lincoln  to  love  again. 

They  were  engaged  and  then  the  engagement  was 
broken  off.  No  definite  reason  for  the  break  is  known, 
but  it  is  easy  to  conjecture  that  between  lovers  with 
such  widely  differing  backgrounds  the  course  of  true 
love  was  not  likely  to  be  smooth. 

Perhaps  the  different  quality  of  this  feeling  from 
that  of  his  first  love  perplexed  Lincoln  and  set  him 
;  pondering  whether  it  were  whole-souled  enough  to 
offer  her.  Mary  Todd  may  have  resented  a  suspicion 
that  the  shadow  of  Ann  Rutledge  in  his  heart  clouded 
it  for  a  newer  love.  Possibly  one  of  Lincoln's  periods 
of  serious  depression  overwhelmed  him,  altered  his 
[personality,  and  alarmed  her  for  the  future. 

Probably  like  most  engaged  girls  she  was  beset  by 
all  sorts  of  prenuptial  doubts.  Her  heart  doubtless 
failed  her  in  facing  a  marriage  to  all  appearances 
"socially  beneath  her"  in  the  face  of  family  disap- 
proval, even  though  her  head  told  her  that  this  man 
towered  above  all  other  men  in  worth. 

Recognition  of  the  vast  difference  between  them 
may  have  discouraged  Lincoln,  too,  when  he  pictured 
how  out  of  place  she  would  be  in  his  father's  wretched 
cabin. 

Her  relatives,  high-bred,  proud,  and  ambitious  for 
a  marriage  of  wealth  and  distinction  for  her,  inter- 


150    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

vened.  Lincoln  was  equally  proud,  and  always  over- 
sensitive as  "Blue  Nose"  Crawford's  wife  said  "about 
coming  in  where  he  wasn't  wanted."  He  recoiled  be- 
fore her  family's  opposition.  Feeling  that  the  union 
was  not  suitable  enough  to  assure  permanent  happi- 
ness, they  released  one  another  from  their  promises 
and  parted  sorrowfully,  Lincoln  with  bowed  head  and 
heavy  heart,  Mary  Todd  in  tears.  The  engagement, 
which  had  briefly  gladdened  the  life  of  a  man  so  often 
battered  by  disappointment,  was  snapped  off  on  the 
first  of  January,  1841. 

Thus  a  New  Year  dawned  unhappily  and  Lincoln 
again  sank  into  such  desperate  despondency  that  three 
weeks  later  he  wrote  John  Todd  Stuart,  his  law  partner 
and  Miss  Todd's  cousin : 

"For  not  giving  you  a  general  summary  of  the  news, 
you  must  pardon  me.  It  is  not  in  my  power  to  do  so. 
I  am  now  the  most  miserable  man  living.  If  what  I 
feel  were  equally  distributed  to  the  whole  human  fam- 
ily, there  could  not  be  one  cheerful  face  on  earth. 
Whether  I  shall  ever  be  better  I  cannot  tell;  I  awfully 
forebode  that  I  shall  not.  To  remain  as  I  am  is  im- 
possible; I  must  die  or  be  better."  For  a  long  time 
he  did  not  "get  better,"  and  becoming  unable  to  work, 
dissolved  his  law  partnership  in  April. 

This  letter  he  wrote  from  Kentucky  whither  he  had 
been  carried  off  for  a  change  of  scene  by  his  friend 
Speed,  for  his  nervous  depression  deepened  to  such  a 
serious  extent  that  his  friends  feared  he  could  not  live. 

Joshua  Speed  (the  Speed  who  had  said,  "My  bed's 
big  enough  for  two,"  when  Lincoln  arrived  in  Spring- 
field without  price  of  regular  lodgings)   now  rallied 


MARY  TODD  151 

to  Lincoln's  aid  as  Bowling-  Greene  had  done  during 
that  other  breakdown.  (Bowling  Greene  himself  had 
died  by  this  time,  and  Lincoln,  asked  to  speak  at  his 
Masonic  funeral  had  broken  down,  and  left  the  plat- 
form weeping.) 

It  was  Speed,  in  Greene's  place,  who  now  tried  to 
shake  off  the  clutches  of  Lincoln's  deathly  gloom  by 
saying,  "Abe,  you  can't  go  on  living  this  way.  You 
are  killing  yourself."  To  this  Lincoln  drearily  replied, 
"I  am  not  afraid  to  die  and  would  be  more  than  will- 
ing, but  I  have  an  irresistible  desire  to  live  until  I  can 
be  assured  that  the  world  is  a  little  better  for  my  hav- 
ing lived  in  it." 

Speed,  who  had  moved  to  Kentucky  to  live,  kept 
Lincoln  with  him  for  a  time.  By  the  very  irony  of 
fate,  no  sooner  had  Lincoln  returned  to  Springfield 
than  Speed  himself  fell  in  love  and  succumbed  to 
misery  akin  to  Lincoln's  own.  The  tables  were  now 
turned,  and  Lincoln  became  comforter.  He  wrote 
letter  after  letter,  counseling  his  friend  out  of  his  own 
experience.  In  trying  to  convince  his  friend  that  he 
must  surely  love  his  "Fanny"  enough  for  marriage — 
a  point  of  doubt  in  Speed's  mind — Lincoln  reveals 
something  of  his  own  perplexities.  He  had  been  tor- 
tured with  uncertainty  as  to  the  sufficiency  of  his  own 
love — and  he  dared  not  accept  the  love  of  Mary  Todd 
if  it  seemed  too  weak  to  transcend  the  obstacles  of  dis- 
approval, false  social  barriers  and  perhaps  certain 
poverty. 

This  he  touches  upon  obscurely  in  a  letter  to  Speed 
on  the  subject  of  "loving  enough,"  in  which  he  breaks 
off  to  say,  "Perhaps  this  point  is  no  longer  a  question 


152    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

with  you,  and  my  pertinacious  dwelling  upon  it  is  a 
rude  intrusion  upon  your  feelings.  If  so,  you  must 
pardon  me.  You  know  the  hell  I  have  suffered  on  that 
point  and  how  tender  I  am  upon  it.  I  am  now  fully 
convinced  that  you  love  her  as  ardently  as  you  are 
capable  of  loving.  It  is  the  peculiar  misfortune  of 
both  you  and  me  to  dream  dreams  of  Elysium  far 
exceeding  all  that  anything  earthly  can  realize." 

Evidently  both  Lincoln  and  Speed  took  with  gloomy 
seriousness  that  question,  "Do  I  love  her  enough?" 
which  assails  most  lovers  and  characterizes  nearly 
every  courtship. 

The  clouds  cleared  for  Speed  and  he  was  married, 
with  what  Elysian  happiness  we  may  judge  from  this 
letter  of  Lincoln's : 

"It  cannot  be  told  how  it  thrills  me  with  joy  to  hear 
you  say  you  are  'far  happier  than  you  ever  expected 
to  be.'  That  much,  I  know,  is  enough.  I  know  you 
too  well  not  to  suppose  your  expectations  were  not,  at 
least  sometimes,  extravagant,  and  if  the  reality  exceeds 
them  all,  I  say,  'Enough,  dear  Lord !'  I  am  not  going 
beyond  the  truth  when  I  tell  you  that  the  short  space 
it  took  me  to  read  your  last  letter  gave  me  more  pleas- 
ure than  the  sum  total  of  all  I  have  enjoyed  since  the 
fatal  first  of  January,  1841.  Since  reading  your 
letter  it  seems  to  me  I  should  have  been  entirely  happy 
but  for  the  never-absent  idea  that  there  is  one  still 
unhappy  whom  I  have  contributed  to  make  so.  That 
still  kills  my  soul.  I  cannot  but  reproach  myself  for 
even  wishing  to  be  happy  while  she  is  otherwise." 

Another  letter  to  Mr.  Speed  shows  how  concerned 
Lincoln  was    for   Miss   Todd's   happiness,    miserable 


MARY  TODD  153 

though  he  continued  to  be  himself.  He  reports  that 
his  heart  was  lightened  to  hear  that  Miss  Todd  had 
gone  off  with  a  gay  party  of  young  people  to  Jackson- 
ville in  the  most  cheerful  spirits. 

There  now  occurred  a  strange  turn  in  this  romance 
which  involved  Lincoln  in  his  one  and  only  duel  and 
unexpectedly  restored  him  to  happiness  and  Mary  Todd. 

A  fiery  young  Irishman  named  James  Shields  held 
the  office  of  State  Auditor.  State  finances  were  in 
such  a  sorry  plight  that  the  paper  money  of  the  state 
banks  at  that  time  was  practically  worthless,  and  the 
Governor  and  Auditor  of  the  Treasury  issued  a  cir- 
cular forbidding  state  expenses  to  be  paid  in  state 
currency.  In  other  words,  this  meant  that  they  wanted 
their  own  salaries  quite  as  well  as  state  taxes  to  be 
paid  not  in  worthless  paper  but  in  solid  Federal  cash. 
Naturally  enough  all  the  Whig  newspapers  throughout 
the  state  rose  to  attack  this  circular  and  its  questionable 
policy. 

One  of  the  most  cutting  attacks  appeared  in  the 
Sangamon  Journal  of  September  2,  1841.  This  was  a 
clever  letter  vivisecting  the  administration's  policy  with 
the  most  keen-edged  satire  and  ' 'covering  the  auditor 
with  merciless  personal  ridicule.,,  It  was  written  in 
country  dialect,  pretending  to  come  from  a  farmer's 
widow,  a  resident  of  the  mythical  village  of  "Lost 
Townships,"  signing  herself  "Rebecca." 

Shields  was  a  peppery  man  and  so  vain  that  the 
sarcasm  and  ridicule  of  this  letter  inflamed  him  in- 
stantly. The  communication  was  at  once  so  funny 
and  so  savage  that  it  immediately  became  famous,  and 
Shields  was  tormented  by  continued  sly  references  to 


154    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

"Rebecca."  As  his  fury  increased,  public  merriment 
grew  until  the  State  Capital  was  in  quite  a  stir  about 
it.  The  following  week  there  appeared  in  the  Journal 
another  letter  from  "Rebecca."  In  this  the  "widow" 
offered  to  appease  the  infuriated  auditor  by  marrying 
him.  This  letter,  while  attempting  the  same  style  as 
the  first,  lacked  the  sharp  edge  of  the  other's  unique 
humor,  and  resulted  in  being  merely  personal  and  mis- 
chievous without  the  other's  political  significance.  Ob- 
viously it  was  written  by  a  different  person,  imitating 
the  first. 

Shields  now  sent  General  Whitesides  to  demand 
from  Mr.  Simeon  Francis,  editor  of  the  Journal,  the 
names  of  these  contributors.  Mr.  Francis  was  in  a 
dilemma.  Lincoln  had  written  the  first  letter,  and  the 
instant  and  furious  response  of  the  pompous  Shields 
had  so  delighted  two  young  ladies  that  they  tried  their 
hands  at  baiting  him  further  by  the  second  letter. 
These  mischievous  young  ladies  were  Mary  Todd  and 
her  sprightly  friend,  Miss  Julia  Jayne.  They  did  not 
know  that  Lincoln  had  written  the  first  letter.  He 
had  no  idea  they  wrote  the  other.  Confronted  by  the 
grim  General,  Mr.  Francis  did  not  know  what  to  do. 
He  could  hardly  present  the  names  of  two  ladies  to  a 
man  who  demanded  satisfaction  at  the  pistol's  point! 

Before  revealing  the  writers'  names,  Mr.  Francis 
cornered  Lincoln  just  as  he  was  leaving  to  attend  court 
in  Tremont  township.  Lincoln  promptly  instructed 
him  to  give  Shields  his  own  name  and  withhold  those 
of  the  girls.  This  the  editor  did.  Off  went  General 
Whitesides  to  the  furious  Shields  and  the  two  in- 
stantly jumped  into  a  buggy  and  whipped  up  after 


MARY  TODD  155 

Lincoln.  But  Shields,  like  the  vanished  Offutt,  was  a 
man  who  "talked  too  much  with  his  mouth."  As  he 
drove  out  of  Springfield  he  could  not  resist  "making 
his  brag"  that  he  was  after  Lincoln.  It  quickly  came 
to  the  ears  of  Lincoln's  friends,  "Bill"  Butler  and  a 
Dr.  Merryman,  and  they  mounted  horses  at  once  and 
set  off  to  Tremont  after  the  others.  They  arrived  in 
time  to  interpose  between  Lincoln  and  his  blustering 
opponents.  A  fight  was  postponed,  but  Shields  now 
opened  up  a  correspondence  so  offensive  that  at  last 
there  seemed  nothing  else  to  do  but  accept  his  dueling 
challenge.  Lincoln,  the  challenged,  had  the  choice  of 
weapons  and  he  grimly  exercised  this  right  in  the  vigor- 
ous choice  of  "cavalry  broadswords  of  the  largest 
kind."  To  tell  the  truth  he  did  not  want  to  hurt  his 
opponent  and  he  certainly  did  not  care  to  get  hurt 
himself  in  so  absurd  a  cause.  He  thereupon  laid  down 
as  regulations  that  each  was  to  fight  on  either  side 
of  a  board  laid  on  the  ground,  each  to  keep  within  a 
six-foot  limit  on  his  own  side  of  the  plank.  The  whole 
thing  seemed  too  ridiculous  and  paltry  for  Lincoln  to 
take  seriously.  Nevertheless,  Shields  insisted  that  they 
cross  the  river  to  the  Missouri  side  and  meet  to  duel. 
At  the  last  minute  the  impetuous  auditor  was  pacified 
by  Lincoln's  seconds,  who  persuaded  him  to  withdraw 
his  challenge  and  listen  to  Lincoln's  explanation,  which 
was  simply  that  the  original  letter  was  written  as  a 
political  attack  only  and  intended  no  personal  slur  upon 
Shields'  character.  The  duel  itself  then  "petered  out," 
but  the  result  of  the  entire  affair  was  not  yet  ended. 
Mrs.  Francis,  the  editor's  wife,  now  played  her  hand. 
She  was  a   social   leader   in   Springfield,    fun-loving, 


156    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

matchmaking,  and  popular,  and  moreover  she  held  an 
assured  place  as  one  of  the  "best  people"  in  the  Capital's 
society.  Hers  was  exactly  the  circle  of  the  society-lov- 
ing Mary  Todd  and  her  relatives.  On  the  other  hand, 
Mrs.  Francis  was  equally  an  avowed  friend  of  Lincoln, 
and  she  made  up  her  mind  that  the  breach  between 
him  and  Miss  Todd  had  widened  far  enough.  She 
resolved  if  matters  could  be  mended  that  she  would 
mend  them.  Amused  by  their  unconscious  linking  of 
names  in  the  "Rebecca"  affair,  she  used  this  unusual 
occasion  to  bring  them  together.  The  kind-hearted 
Mrs.  Francis  slyly  arranged  for  the  unsuspecting 
Lincoln  and  Miss  Todd  to  meet  "accidentally"  at  her 
house.  This  they  did  and  the  confusion  of  the  moment 
was  so  cleverly  averted  by  their  hostess's  diverting 
reference  to  "Rebecca"  that  Lincoln  and  Mary  Todd 
had  a  thoroughly  enjoyable  evening. 

In  fact  it  was  so  very  agreeable  that  they  continued 
to  meet  one  another  at  Mrs.  Francis's  home  repeatedly 
thereafter.  This  was  in  the  fall  of  the  same  year  that 
began  with  "that   fatal  January  first." 

This  time,  taught  by  their  unhappiness  apart,  Miss 
Todd  was  convinced  as  to  the  soundness  of  her  judg- 
ment, and  she  was  further  influenced  by  Mrs.  Francis's 
"mature  social  wisdom"  that  such  a  marriage  would 
be  in  every  way  estimable.  Mary  Todd  resolved  that 
no  one  should  separate  them  again,  and  the  romance 
concluded  with  the   following  happy  ending. 

One  Sunday  morning  Lincoln,  in  all  the  dignity  of 
his  Sunday  best,  called  on  Miss  Todd  at  Mrs.  Edwards' 
home.  November's  chill  was  in  the  bleak  air,  but  re- 
stored  content   made   warm   springtime   in   Lincoln's 


MARY  TODD  157 

heart.  At  each  meeting  their  joy  in  being  together 
again,  after  nearly  a  year  of  separation  and  acute  un- 
happiness,  increased,  until  Lincoln  now  pleaded  that 
they  be  married  at  once.  For  a  long  time  they  sat  to- 
gether in  the  parlor  earnestly  talking,  then  Lincoln  rose 
triumphantly,  and  Miss  Todd,  stepping  to  the  door, 
called  her  sister  in.  The  pair  startled  her  by  announcing 
that  they  were  going  to  be  married  that  evening,  very 
quickly  and  quietly  in  this  same  parlor. 

Mrs.  Edwards  was  "all  of  a  flutter."  Weddings 
are  occasions  dear  to  feminine  hearts,  and  she  had 
looked  forward  to  all  the  excitement  of  an  elaborate 
ceremony  for  Mary.  There  was,  surprisingly  enough, 
nothing  ostentatious  about  her  society-loving  sister. 
Mary  Todd  wanted  to  be  married  and  to  be  married 
now.  They  could  get  the  family  together,  she  said 
calmly,  and  have  Mr.  Dresser,  the  Episcopal  Rector, 
come  over  and  marry  them  after  evening  service.  "But 
you  haven't  any  wedding  gown  \"  wailed  the  surprised 
and  distressed  Mrs.  Edwards,  as  if  no  wedding  could 
be  properly  legal  without  that.  "I'll  use  what  I  have," 
Mary  declared  firmly.  When  Mary  "put  her  foot 
down"  the  family  had  to  comply.  Preparations  were 
hastily  made,  the  Edwards'  kitchen  bustled  at  the  emer- 
gency of  turning  "Sunday  night  snack"  into  a  wedding 
supper.  Their  younger  sister,  Mrs.  Wallace,  was  sum- 
moned to  help  and  both  flew  about,  ejaculating,  "If 
there  were  only  a  little  more  time !"  Few  flowers  were 
available  in  November  to  garnish  the  hastily  arranged 
parlor.  In  the  midst  of  all  these  preparations  Mary 
serenely  furbished  up  a  simple  white  muslin  dress  and 
looked  forward  to  evening  with  a  more  serious  pur- 


158    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

pose  in  mind  than  the  arrangement  of  a  wedding  veil. 
Evening  came  and  the  guests  gathered — there  was  "just 
the  family,"  her  family — Major  and  Mrs.  John  Todd 
Stuart,  Dr.  John  Todd,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Wallace,  and 
Mrs.  Ninian  W.  Edwards  met  in  the  parlor.  Old 
Judge  Tom  C.  Brown,  Lincoln's  friend  and  patron, 
was  also  present  The  Rev.  Dresser,  prayer  book  in 
hand,  entered.  Tall,  lean  Lincoln  and  his  short,  plump 
bride  stood  together  before  him  and  the  ceremony  (one 
of  the  first  Episcopalian  weddings  in  that  section)  was 
performed.  Unfamiliar  with  the  service,  Judge  Brown 
heard  Lincoln  repeat,  "With  all  my  worldly  goods  I 
thee  endow,"  and  sputtered  aloud,  "Grace  to  Goshen, 
Lincoln,  the  statute  fixes  all  that!"  No  wedding  is 
really  complete  without  some  little  break  like  this !  No 
doubt  the  sisters  indulged  in  usual  feminine  tears  that 
must  be  shed  on  these  occasions.  The  men,  reconciled 
to  Mary's  choice,  congratulated  her  husband.  Mrs. 
Abraham  Lincoln  then  faced  the  future  conscious  of 
the  bright  new  ring  on  her  finger  within  which  was 
engraved,  "Love  is  eternal." 

In  spite  of  earlier  forebodings,  the  marriage  turned 
out  to  be  "happy  ever  after."  Mary  Todd  Lincoln's 
keen  understanding,  her  quick  grip  on  situations  and 
the  live  interest  she  always  evinced  in  her  husband's 
activities  prompted  him  later  to  say,  "Mary,  we  are 
elected  President!"  She  was  not  his  first  love,  but 
they  loved  one  another  deeply  and  together  they  built 
up  the  happiness  of  a  home  life  that  was  the  first 
Lincoln  knew. 

Save  for  Ann  Rutledge,  Lincoln  had  no  love  affairs 
when  he  met  Mary  Todd  unless  we  except  a  brief  flirta- 


MARY  TODD  159 

tion  with  a  Mary  Owen9,  in  which  Lincoln's  heart  was 
not  deeply  involved  and  which  the  lady  dismissed  with 
the  remark  that  "he  was  deficient  in  those  minor  atten- 
tions and  little  civilities  which  constitute  the  chain  of  a 
woman's  happiness." 

Mary  Todd,  a  more  sophisticated  woman  of  far 
higher  ambitions  and  deeper  concern  for  "those  little 
civilities,',  had  sounder  judgment  and  a  stouter  heart. 
Of  her  engagement  she  wrote  to  a  girlhood  friend  in 
Kentucky,  acknowledging  his  defects,  yet  adding 
stoutly:  "But  I  intend  to  make  him  President  of  the 
United  States.  You  will  see,  that  as  I  always  told  you, 
I  will  yet  be  the  President's  wife!" 

Hers  was  the  insight  that  divined  Lincoln's  full 
power  and  elected  him  President  before  the  nation  did. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

FAMILY   LIFE 

Lincoln's  heart  was  now  as  high  as  his  friend 
Speed's,  and  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Speed  he  gives  the 
following  "pleasant  glimpse  into  his  domestic  arrange- 
ments at  this  time" : 

"We  are  not  keeping  house,  but  are  boarding  at  the 
Globe  Tavern,  which  is  very  well  kept  now  by  a  widow 
lady  of  the  name  of  Beck.  Our  rooms  are  now  the 
same  Dr.  Wallace  occupied  there,  and  boarding  only 
costs  four  dollars  a  week — I  most  heartily  wish  you 
and  your  family  will  not  fail  to  come.  Just  let  us 
know  the  time,  a  week  in  advance,  and  we  will  have 
a  room  prepared  for  you,  and  we'll  be  merry  together 
for  a  while." 

Mrs.  Lincoln  was  too  ambitious  a  housekeeper,  how- 
ever, to  be  satisfied  to  "board"  indefinitely.  Although 
they  had  almost  too  little  to  live  on  at  this  period, 
nevertheless  both  craved  that  sense  of  stability  and 
permanency  which  can  only  come  with  "owning  your 
own  home."  They  finally  found  a  little  house  on 
Eighth  Street,  which  they  could  afford  to  buy.  The 
saving  and  planning  which  went  into  the  delight  of 
purchasing  it  and  heightened  their  pride  of  possession, 
can  best  be  appreciated  by  those  who  have  also  known 
this  experience.  The  house  was  a  small  frame  one 
with  porch  and  shingled  roof.  It  was  only  one  story 
high. 

160 


FAMILY  LIFE  161 

During  their  life  here  Lincoln  spent  a  good  deal  of 
his  time  "on  the  circuit" — traveling  from  town  to  town 
attending  court  sessions  at  various  distant  county  seats, 
so  that  sometimes  he  was  away  from  home  for  weeks 
or  even  months  at  a  time. 

Returning  to  Springfield  one  night  after  such  an 
absence,  he  dismounted  and  tied  his  horse  before  what 
he  supposed  was  his  own  home.  At  least  he  felt  pretty 
sure  that  his  own  little  one-story  house  had  stood  in 
that  spot  when  he  had  gone  away.  But  now  there  rose 
before  him  a  two-story  house,  and  not  knowing 
whether  to  believe  his  own  eyes,  he  did  not  venture 
to  pull  its  door  bell.  Thoroughly  puzzled,  he  stepped 
across  the  street  to  a  neighbor's,  and  although  they 
had  gone  to  bed  and  their  house  was  dark,  he  pounded 
on  their  door  until  a  head  was  thrust  from  an  upper 
window  and  a  voice  called:  "Who's  there?"  "It's  Abe 
Lincoln,"  answered  the  baffled  house  owner,  "I  think 
I  must  be  lost ;  I  am  looking  for  my  house.  I  thought 
it  was  over  there  on  the  corner  when  I  went  away, 
but  there  seems  to  be  a  new  one  there  now !" 

With  a  burst  of  laughter  the  voice  called  down : 

"That's  your  house,  Abe !  Your  wife's  had  a  second 
story  built  on  it  while  you've  been  away !" 

Chuckling  at  his  own  bewilderment,  Lincoln  turned 
home  and  was  met  with  a  gust  of  merriment  from  his 
wife  at  his  satisfactory  astonishment.  It  seems  that 
she  had  received  some  money  from  the  estate  of  her 
father,  the  Hon.  Robert  B.  Todd,  of  Lexington.  Full 
of  enthusiasm  for  their  household  welfare,  Mary 
Lincoln  decided  that  she  could  invest  this  sum  in  no 
better  way  than  by  putting  it  all  toward  improving 


162     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

their  home.  Not  waiting  for  Lincoln's  return  or  advice, 
she  hustled  the  remodeling  through  to  surprise  him  and 
was  thoroughly  satisfied  with  his  amazement.  Forth- 
with she  escorted  him  all  over  the  new  addition,  point- 
ing out  favorite  features  with  exclamations  of  delight. 

It  was  in  this  house  that  they  lived  throughout  their 
life  in  Springfield.  To  it  he  hurried  to  tell  her  of  his 
nomination  and  election  to  the  Presidency.  Here  elec- 
tion crowds  thronged,  swarming  porch  and  yard,  here 
they  entertained,  despite  the  smallness  of  quarters 
which  sometimes  seemed  outgrown  and  inadequate  for 
the  demands  of  fame. 

Here  their  four  sons  were  born.  Lincoln  was  thirty- 
three  and  his  wife  twenty-four  years  old  when  they 
were  married  in  1841.  Their  first  boy  was  born  on 
August  first,  1843,  and  was  named  Robert  Todd 
Lincoln  for  his  maternal  grandfather.  The  fourth  boy 
was  born  on  April  4th,  ten  years  later,  in  1853,  an(^ 
was  named  Thomas  for  his  other  grandfather.  Be- 
tween them  came  Edward  Baker  Lincoln,  born  on  the 
tenth  of  March,  in  1856,  and  named  for  Lincoln's 
friend  and  colleague.  William's  birthday  occurred  just 
before  Christmas,  December  21st,  to  be  exact,  in  185 1. 

Little  "Eddie"  died  at  the  lovable  age  of  four,  and 
in  the  extremity  of  grief  over  his  loss  appeared  one 
of  the  early  evidences  of  his  mother's  melancholia 
which  marred  the  unfortunate  later  years  of  her  life. 
Robert  and  "Willie"  were  serious,  quiet  little  boys,  but 
Thomas,  "the  baby,"  was  the  rollicking  spirit  of  mis- 
chief. His  father  called  him  "a  lively  little  tadpole," 
and  the  nickname  "Tad"  stuck  to  him  for  the  rest  of 
his  life  and  was  more  used  and  better  known  than  his 


FAMILY  LIFE  163 

own.  Willie  and  Tad  both  lived  in  the  White  House 
in  war  time  and  probably  the  Executive  Mansion  was 
never  enlivened  with  more  childish  pranks  than  Tad's 
until  the  day  of  little  Quentin  Roosevelt. 

While  the  two  little  boys  were  living  at  the  White 
House,  Robert  was  away  at  Harvard,  a  strangely  un- 
expected place  for  the  son  of  a  Pigeon  Creek  back- 
woodsman who  had  learned  his  ciphering  by  firelight 
with  a  wooden  shovel  for  a  slate. 

Lincoln's  delight  in  his  children  kept  all  depression 
from  him  now.  One  of  the  most  amusing  tales  is 
told  of  Willie's  babyhood.  He  was  only  three  years 
old  when  his  mother  was  tubbing  him  one  morning 
and  turned  her  back  for  a  moment.  As  quick  as  a 
wink  he  scuttled  away  from  her,  and  being  a  young 
runaway,  he  now  set  off  across  the  fields  scampering 
along  gleefully  through  the  tall  grasses  and  wild 
flowers  attired  in  absolutely  nothing  but  some  soap- 
suds. At  his  mother's  cries  Lincoln,  who  had  been 
peacefully  reading  on  the  porch  with  his  long  legs 
up  on  the  rails,  thumped  down  his  chair  and  stood  up 
to  see  what  the  excitement  was  all  about,  and  at  sight 
of  the  "pink  and  white  runaway"  skipping  across  the 
fields  like  a  lively  and  sudsy  little  cupid,  his  father  burst 
out  into  such  a  roar  of  laughter  that  he  could  not 
promptly  obey  his  wife's  entreaty  to  "run  and  get 
him!"  Finally  Lincoln  unlimbered  himself  for  pur- 
suit, and  ran  after  his  little  naked  son  while  the  child, 
squealing  with  delight,  scudded  ahead  of  him  in  a  gay 
game  of  tag.  His  short  plump  bare  legs  were  soon 
overtaken  and  Lincoln  came  prancing  him  pig-aback  to 
his  mother  and  the  tub. 


164    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

Ann  Rutledge's  sister  has  told  how  Lincoln  enjoyed 
playing  tricks  upon  her  small  brothers,  and  how  he 
could  often  have  been  seen  striding  along  with  a  squirm- 
ing and  shrieking  little  boy  under  one  arm  pretending 
that  he  did  not  know  he  held  one.  Lincoln  now  had 
boys  of  his  own  to  enjoy  this.  He  came  home  from 
church  so  early  one  Sunday  morning  that  the  sermon 
was  not  yet  over.  Tad  was  slung  unceremoniously 
under  one  arm  and  as  Lincoln  approached  a  group  of 
amused  friends  on  a  corner  he  called  out  his  explana- 
tion in  the  graphic  terms  of  country  horse  races : 
"Gentlemen,  I  entered  this  colt  but  he  kicked  around 
so  I  had  to  withdraw  him." 

A  familiar  sight  on  the  streets  of  Springfield  was 
Lincoln's  tall  figure  swinging  along  with  one  little 
boy  perched  high  on  his  shoulder,  another  trotting  be- 
side clutching  his  coat  tails.  On  one  such  occasion 
both  boys  were  howling  so  lustily  that  a  neighbor 
called  out,  "Why,  Mr.  Lincoln,  what's  the  matter  with 
the  boys?" 

"Just  what's  the  matter  with  the  whole  world,"  he 
answered.  "I've  got  three  walnuts  and  each  wants 
two." 

During  this  period,  his  partnership  with  John  Todd 
Stuart  being  dissolved,  Lincoln  formed  another  with 
Stephen  T.  Logan.  Mr.  Logan  differed  from  other 
lawyers  in  those  days  by  his  focus  upon  points  of  law 
rather  than  reliance  upon  flowery  rhetoric  to  move 
juries.  This  sound  principle  Lincoln  was  quick  to  dis- 
cern and  profit  by.  To  tell  the  truth,  Logan  had  chosen 
Lincoln,  expecting  him  to  prove  chiefly  useful  as  a 
"talking  advocate"  on  account  of  his  well-known  ability 


FAMILY  LIFE  165 

for  quick  wit  in  debate,  his  power  of  holding  attention 
through  apt  use  of  droll  illustrative  stories  and  his 
knack  at  winning  a  sudden  turn  of  approval  in  the  face 
of  bitter  opposition  by  a  skillful  direction  of  well- 
chosen  ridicule.  It  turned  out,  however,  that  Lincoln 
surprised  his  partner  by  a  sudden  devotion  to  technical 
law  principles  as  well,  and  this  knowledge,  coupled  with 
his  ready  tongue,  soon  made  him  "a  formidable  law- 
yer." Lincoln's  concentration  on  law  study  now  in- 
creased and  he  began  at  this  time  to  train  his  faculty 
which  thus  far  had  simply  been  growing  without 
any  of  the  severe  discipline  he  now  began  to  give 
it.  This  partnership  marked  the  definite  beginning  of 
a  new  growth  and  expansion  of  Lincoln's  maturer 
powers. 

With  this  development,  the  success,  which  he  had 
long  seemed  to  promise,  now  became  a  marked  cer- 
tainty. The  impulse  which  stirred  up  his  new  growth 
and  power  undoubtedly  lay  in  the  incentive  of  his 
home  happiness  and  the  earnest  cooperation  of  his  in- 
terested and  ambitious  wife.  The  partnership  pros- 
pered, and  though  Lincoln's  absence  in  Washington 
as  Congressman  ended  it  after  four  years,  the  partners 
always  remained  fast  friends.  Early  in  life  they  ex- 
perienced the  unique  honor  of  seeing  their  names  made 
permanent  in  the  State  they  served  through  the  nam- 
ing of  one  county  Logan  and  its  county  seat  Lincoln. 

From  now  on  Lincoln  knew  no  more  poverty  and 
debt.  Though  he  was  never  rich,  he  was  never  poor 
again.  Through  his  wife's  skill  in  adapting  their  liv- 
ing to  their  income  they  lived  in  thorough  comfort 
thereafter.     Indeed,  much  may  be  said  of  the  part 


166    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

Mary  Todd  Lincoln  played  in  her  husband's  success. 
Not  only  did  she  apply  her  mind  to  the  problems  of 
his  career,  but  to  the  homelier  though  no  less  vital  mat- 
ters of  housekeeping  and  home  making.  She  was  a 
"good  manager,"  and  though  they  started  their  married 
life  on  little  or  nothing,  by  her  common  sense  and  skill- 
ful economy  she  soon  had  them  snugly  established  in 
a  home  of  their  own,  one  story  though  it  was.  It 
must  have  seemed  especially  delightful  to  her  husband 
who  had  had  no  real  home  before  save  a  one-room,  dirt- 
floor,  mud-chinked  cabin.  The  delight  which  good 
Sally  Bush's  beds,  quilts,  tableware  and  furniture 
brought  to  his  little-boy  heart  must  have  been  no  greater 
than  the  pride  he  now  took  in  accumulation  of  their 
own  household  possessions.  Mary  Todd  Lincoln  knew 
how  to  make  the  most  of  little  and  by  various  feminine 
touches  gave  their  house  that  homelike  atmosphere 
which  takes  true  womanly  talent.  Her  home  was 
always  plain,  but  she  made  no  apology  for  that.  Good 
taste  and  dignity  marked  it,  and  knowing  this,  she 
proudly  felt  inferior  to  none. 

Mrs.  Lincoln  lost  none  of  her  girlish  popularity  with 
marriage,  but  fast  became  one  of  the  leading  young 
matrons  in  Springfield's  agreeable  social  circle.  Nor 
did  she  hesitate  to  entertain  because  her  home  was 
small  and  simple.  Though  her  house  was  more  modest 
than  any  she  had  known  before  marriage,  the  spirit 
of  her  hospitality  of  Kentucky  fame  was  so  warm 
that  friends  found  more  enjoyment  in  gathering  at 
"the  little  house  on  Eighth  Street"  than  at  more  pre- 
tentious mansions.  Her  dinners  were  always  served 
with  orderly  refinement  and  her  table  became  famous 


FAMILY  LIFE  167 

for  the  rare  Kentucky  dishes,  the  venison  and  wild 
turkey,  which  she  provided  for  her  guests.  But  it  was 
the  geniality  and  welcome  coming  from  the  host  and 
hostess,  and  the  cleverness  of  the  conversation  they 
inspired  and  led,  which  formed  the  chief  attraction. 

Mrs.  Lincoln  has  been  accused  of  such  faultfinding 
and  nagging  habits  as  to  cause  serious  home  friction, 
but  this  seems  untrue  and  unfounded.  She  was  a 
nervous  woman,  given,  like  Lincoln  himself,  to  periods 
of  depression  marked  at  the  time  of  Eddie's  death, 
which  deepened  as  she  grew  older.  But  in  justice  it 
must  be  noted  that  hers  were  the  problems  of  a  great 
man's  wife,  and  a  genius  is  not  always  easy  to  live  with, 
be  he  ever  so  admirable  or  ever  so  kindly.  It  must 
have  been  a  trial  to  her  orderly  soul  to  keep  house 
for  an  untidy,  absent-minded  man  whose  very  law 
office  had  its  desks  and  pigeon  holes  so  unmethodically 
stuffed  and  littered  that  he  kept  his  more  important 
letters  and  papers  in  an  old  silk  "stove  pipe"  hat  upon 
his  desk.  One  pile  of  law  memoranda,  notes  and  cor- 
respondence, all  unclassified,  lay  on  his  desk,  unfiled 
and  growing  daily.  This  he  labeled,  "When  you  can't 
find  it  anywhere  else,  look  into  this."  This  was  the 
"system"  of  the  law  firm  of  Lincoln  &  Herndon,  a 
partnership  which  lasted  until  he  left  for  Washington 
and  the  Presidency. 

Such  unorderly  habits  would  fret  any  tidy  wife's 
precise  passion  for  neatness.  His  uncouth  manners 
required  her  correction  in  view  of  the  position  he  held, 
and  such  reproofs  any  wife  might  make  without  justi- 
fying the  notion  that  she  was  a  shrew.  We  have  the 
word  of  Mr.  Henry  Rankin,  their  personal  friend,  that 


168    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

there  was  no  real  friction  between  the  couple.     He 
says  : 

4 'I  saw  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lincoln  in  many  and  widely 
differing  situations  during  their  married  life  at  their 
home;  saw  them  leaving  home,  saw  them  separating 
for  more  or  less  length  of  absence  for  business  and 
pleasure,  saw  them  again  when  calling  at  the  law  office, 
during  busy  hours   in   hurried  consultation  between 
each  other  on  family,  social  or  business  affairs,  saw 
them  in  their  carriage  together,  driving  out  on  our  city 
streets  and  country  roads;  saw  them  at  parties;  saw 
them  regularly  attending  church  together  every  Sun- 
day, when  both  were  at  home.     I  saw  them  often  in 
crowded  assemblies  of  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  pub- 
lic affairs;  often  again  in  both  pleasant  and  trying 
circumstances  with  their  children;  with  their  friends, 
their   political    foes,    and    later    with   huzzaing   party 
admirers,  filling  their  modest  home  and  sometimes  over- 
flowing the  streets  around  their  residence  on  Eighth 
Street  with  embarrassing  familiarity.    In  none  of  these 
situations  did  I  ever  detect  in  Mrs.  Lincoln  aught  but 
the  most  wifely  and  matronly  proprieties  and  respect 
toward  her  husband,  her  family  and  her  friends.     She 
adapted  herself  cheerfully  to  all  those  exacting  func- 
tions at  their  home  required  of  Lincoln  in  his  public 
life." 

Undoubtedly  she  loved  position  and  power,  and 
surely  she  was  proud  of  her  lanky,  awkward  husband. 
She  knew  the  brilliance  of  his  mind  and  the  honesty 
of  his  heart,  and  that  a  bright  future  stretched  before 
him.  She  certainly  must  have  been  glad  that  she  had 
chosen  him  instead  of  Douglas,  if  she  really  had  ever 


FAMILY  LIFE  169 

considered  the  latter's  advances  seriously.  She  ad- 
mitted that  her  husband  was  ungainly,  but  she  de- 
fended him  by  saying: 

1 'He  may  not  be  a  handsome  figure,  but  I  know 
that  his  heart  is  as  large  as  his  arms  are  long." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

POLITICS   AND   CONGRESS 

Lincoln  had  served  eight  consecutive  years  in  the 
State  Legislature  and  it  now  seemed  time  for  him  to 
advance  to  some  higher  office.  At  least  his  friends 
thought  so,  and  in  the  year  he  was  married  they  offered 
to  back  him  for  State  Governor.  Lincoln  refused  this, 
for  he  had  other  plans.  His  mind  was  now  set  on 
Federal  rather  than  State  service.  He  wanted  to  go  to 
Washington.  He  therefore  independently  announced 
himself  as  candidate  for  Congress  and  managed  his  own 
campaign  for  the  office  of  Representative  in  1842. 

The  Whig  candidates  that  year  from  Sangamon 
County  were  ex-Congressman  John  J.  Hardin  of  Jack- 
sonville, Edward  D.  Baker  and  Abraham  Lincoln  of 
Springfield,  all  three  fast  friends  and  former  members 
of  the  "Long  Nine." 

Hardin  and  Lincoln  lost  and  Baker  was  sent  to  Con- 
gress. This  defeat  was  not  like  Lincoln's  first,  on 
direct  vote  of  the  people,  but  by  county  committee  of 
delegates.  Absurd  prejudice  played  a  part  in  the  far- 
fetched opposition  to  Lincoln  in  this  campaign.  Lie 
was  called  "an  aristocrat,"  possibly  in  slighting  refer- 
ence to  his  wife's  relatives,  certainly  not  to  his  own! 
It  was  further  claimed  that  he  was  a  "duelist"  (in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  those  "large-sized  cavalry  broad- 
swords" had  never  been  crossed!)   and  moreover  he 

170 


POLITICS  AND  CONGRESS  171 

was  unpopular  for  having  married  an  Episcopalian! 
However,  the  very  meeting  that  chose  Baker  made 
Lincoln  delegate  to  the  Whig  Convention. 

Writing  to  Speed,  Lincoln  said : 

"In  getting  Baker  the  nomination  I  shall  be  fixed 
a  good  deal  like  the  fellow  who  is  made  a  groomsman 
to  a  man  that  has  cut  him  out  and  is  marrying  his  own 
dear  'gal.'  "  Lincoln  declared,  "Llowever,  I  feel  my- 
self bound  not  to  hinder  him  in  any  way  from  getting 
the  nomination ;  I  should  despise  myself  were  I  to  at- 
tempt it." 

At  presidential  election  in  1844  Lincoln  made  an 
enthusiastic  canvass  for  the  popular  candidate  Henry 
Clay.  Lincoln's  confidence  in  Clay,  based  on  intelligent 
study  of  his  principles  and  public  practice,  lent  such 
vigor  to  his  campaigning  that  he  was  invited  by  Whig 
leaders  to  speak  not  only  in  Illinois  but  in  Indiana. 
While  stumping  this  state  he  came  to  Gentryville. 

This  was  the  town  he  had  left  16  years  before  as 
a  raw-boned  young  clodhopper  with  peddler's  pack, 
driving  a  covered  wagon  with  a  four-ox  team.  He  re- 
turned now,  successful  lawyer  and  Legislator,  and  all 
his  old  neighbors  made  holiday  and  turned  out  to  hear 
him  speak. 

He  made  his  address  in  behalf  of  the  presidential 
candidate  standing  in  the  doorway  of  the  little  log 
schoolhouse  surrounded  by  old  friends,  the  "Abe"  who 
used  to  delight  them  with  yarns  and  irresistible  imita- 
tions of  country  preachers,  the  Abe  who  held  forth  on 
politics  to  his  barrel-seated  audience  with  his  long  legs 
swinging  from  the  counter. 

Lincoln  had  many  a  larger  and  more  influential  audi- 


172    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

ence,  but  he  never  had  one  in  which  appeared  so  many 
proud  and  friendly  members  of  the  "I-knew-him- 
when"  club! 

After  the  "speakin'  "  they  surged  upon  him  and  great 
handshakings  and  shoulder  slappings  ensued.  Here 
again  he  saw  old  Mr.  Gentry  himself,  there  was  Jones 
of  the  old  grocery  store,  here  were  his  school  friends, 
Nat  and  Aaron  Grigsby,  and  even  Miss  Roby,  of  spell- 
ing bee  fame,  now  married  and  the  possessor  of  several 
little  spellers  herself,  pressed  forward  with  "I  guess 
you  don't  remember  me,  Abe."  "Little"  Richardson 
(little  no  longer),  for  whom  Lincoln  had  set  a  pen- 
manship copy,  was  there,  and  old  John  Baldwin,  the 
blacksmith,  and  Lincoln's  special  crony  at  whose  quaint 
philosophy,  retailed  in  Lincoln's  appreciative  mimicry, 
many  a  statesman  and  White  House  caller  was  later 
to  laugh  and  learn.  John  Romine,  who  called  Lincoln 
"lazy,"  was  there  to  see  the  fruits  of  that  laziness;  the 
miller  left  his  wheel  at  a  standstill  to  come  and  hear 
Abe  and  remind  him  how  he  used  to  like  to  get  a  day 
off  from  farm  work  to  linger  on  a  slow  grain  cart 
through  the  woods  and  wait  his  turn  at  grinding,  mar- 
veling at  the  mill's  cumbersome  machinery  and  remind- 
ing Abe  with  laughter  of  the  day  the  old  horse  that 
turned  the  mill  wheel  had  kicked  him  senseless. 

Altogether,  the  exigencies  of  presidential  campaign- 
ing were  lost  in  importance  for  Lincoln  amid  the  crowd- 
ing memories  of  these  scenes  of  his  childhood. 
Finally  old  "Blue  Nose"  Crawford  carried  him  off  tri- 
umphantly for  supper  where  the  excited  Mrs.  Crawford 
bustled  about  with  motherly  pride,  declaring,  "We  all 
know  you'll  be  famous  yet,  Abe,"  and  plying  him  be- 


POLITICS  AND  CONGRESS  173 

yond  capacity  with  all  the  luxuries  of  the  best  "light 
bread  and  chicken  fixin's."  While  in  Gentryville  Lin- 
coln paid  sad  visits  to  the  graves  of  his  sister  and 
mother,  and  stood  lost  in  meditation  at  the  fallen  log 
roof  and  tumbled-down  chimney  of  the  deserted  Pigeon 
Creek  cabin.  Indeed  these  scenes,  memorable  for  the 
events  of  deaths,  discomforts,  sorrows  and  half -timor- 
ous ambitions,  stirred  him  to  put  his  sentiments  in 
verse.  Among  the  many  stanzas  of  a  poem  he  penned 
on  this  occasion  are  these: — 


My  childhood's  home  I  see  again 

And  sadden  with  the  view, 
And  still  as  memory  crowds  the  brain 

There's  pleasure  in  it  too. 

Ah,  memory!  thou  midway  world 

'Twixt  earth  and  Paradise, 
Where  things  decayed  and  loved  ones  lost 

In  dreamy  shadows  rise. 

And  freed  from  all  that's  earthy,  vile, 
Seems  hallowed,  pure  and  bright, 

Like  scenes  in  some  enchanted  isle 
All  bathed  in  liquid  light. 


Lincoln  retained  his  enthusiasm  for  Gay  although 
he  had  never  seen  the  great  Kentucky  statesman,  and 
when  it  became  known  that  the  great  orator  and  con- 
ciliator was  to  make  a  speech  in  Lexington  on  gradual 
emancipation,  Lincoln  declared  a  holiday  from  business 
and  made  the  trip  to  Kentucky.  As  Mrs.  Lincoln  had 
many  relatives,  including  several  half-brothers  and 
sisters  still  in  her  old  Lexington  home  whom  she  and 
Lincoln  occasionally  visited,  the  journey  was  made  ad- 


174    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

ditionally  festive  by  her  accompanying  him  and  taking 
little  Robert  and  baby  Eddie  along. 

When  Clay  heard  that  Lincoln  was  in  Lexington, 
he  promptly  invited  him  to  his  "Ashland"  mansion 
(opposite  which,  by  the  way,  stood  the  private  school 
where  Mary  Todd  had  been  a  student).  Some  say  that 
Lincoln  was  disappointed  in  Clay's  personality,  through 
some  sensitiveness  to  that  polished  gentleman's  aloof 
attitude  of  superiority.  Whether  this  is  true  or  not, 
it  is  certain  that  Lincoln  always  maintained  a  sound 
admiration  for  Clay's  principles  and  political  master- 
ship. 

When  the  new  year  opened  in  1846,  Lincoln 
again  found  himself  a  candidate  for  Congress,  this 
time  with  only  his  friend  Hardin  running  against  him. 
Hardin  suggested,  as  they  were  the  only  two  candidates, 
that  there  be  no  convention  held  and  the  selection  left 
simply  to  the  voters.  Lincoln  refused  this  and  there- 
upon Hardin,  with  that  generosity  which  marked  all 
the  political  competition  between  himself,  Baker  and 
Lincoln,  withdrew  from  the  contest  and  gave  the  place 
to  his  friend.  At  last  Lincoln  was  elected  to  Congress, 
but  like  many  another  man,  as  soon  as  he  won  the 
long-coveted  honor,  it  seemed  less  to  him  than  he  had 
anticipated.  He  wrote  this  to  his  faithful  correspond- 
ent, Speed: 

"Being  elected  to  Congress,  though  I  am  grateful 
to  our  friends  for  having  done  it,  has  not  pleased  me 
as  much  as  I  expected.' ' 

Lincoln  now  prepared  for  his  first  trip  to  Washing- 
ton. Before  his  departure  the  Mexican  War  had 
broken  out  and  regiments  were  mustered.    Hardin  and 


POLITICS  AND  CONGRESS  175 

Baker  were  among  the  first  volunteers  and  even  the 
impetuous  Shields  of  "Rebecca"  and  broadsword  fame 
had  enlisted.  Lincoln's  stand  on  this  war  (a  war  of 
which  his  party  was  thoroughly  ashamed)  was  typically 
Whig.  He  had  vigorously  opposed  its  declaration,  but 
once  begun  he  voted  for  a  prompt  furnishing  of  sup- 
plies that  might  push  it  to  a  speedy  and  conclusive  end. 
This  point  is  worth  remembering.  Upon  Lincoln's 
election,  his  wife  closed  the  little  house  on  Eighth 
Street  temporarily,  and  with  Robert  and  Eddie  set  forth 
to  live  in  Washington  also.  Lincoln,  however,  went  on 
ahead  by  himself  first  to  prepare  the  way  for  her.  He 
started  off  early  one  morning,  taking  the  stage  coach 
from  the  corner  Tavern.  Within  the  rumbling  coach 
there  was  only  one  other  passenger,  a  Kentucky  farmer 
going  home  from  a  visit  in  Missouri.  Lincoln  sat  gaz- 
ing silently  out  of  the  carriage  window,  buried  in 
grave  thoughts.  The  countryman  felt  a  social  respon- 
sibility to  cheer  this  melancholy  traveler  and  "make 
talk."  Lincoln  used  to  laugh  heartily  afterwards  when 
telling  about  this  journey  and  his  fellow  passenger. 
"Depressed  by  my  silence  and  lack  of  sociability,"  Lin- 
coln relates,  "the  Kentuckian  finally  offered  me  a  chew 
of  tobacco.  'No,  thank  you,  sir,  I  never  chew/  I  said. 
Later  he  tried  to  break  in  upon  me  again  with  the 
generous  offer  of  a  large  cigar,  'No,  thank  you,  sir,  I 
never  smoke/  I  said.  By  and  by,  as  we  waited  while 
they  changed  horses,  he  offered  me  the  Kentucky  hos- 
pitality of  his  brandy  flask  and  to  this  I  said,  'No,  thank 
you,  sir,  I  never  drink/  During  the  last  part  of  the 
journey  I  talked  to  him  and  when  we  changed  coaches 
and  he  left,  he  said,  'See  here,  stranger,  you're  a  good 


176    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

companion.  I  may  never  set  eyes  on  you  again,  and 
I  don't  want  to  offend  you,  but  I  want  to  say  this,'  and 
here  Lincoln  would  laugh  and  slap  his  knees,  'My  ex- 
perience has  taught  me,  sir,  that  a  man  who  has  no 
vices  has  blamed  few  virtues, — good  eveninV  " 

It  was  the  custom  for  all  Congressmen-elect  to  fill 
out  an  autobiographical  blank  giving  a  summary  of 
such  data  as  might  be  used  in  the  Congressional  Direc- 
tory for  a  biographical  sketch  of  each  member.  Mr. 
Charles  Lanman,  editor  of  the  Directory,  preserved  the 
blank  modestly  filled  out  thus  in  Lincoln's  own  hand- 
writing : — 

Born,  Feb.  12,  1809,  in  Hardin  County,  Ky. 

Education — defective. 

Profession — lawyer. 

Military  Service — captain  of  Volunteers  in  Black 
Hawk  War. 

Offices  held — postmaster  at  a  very  small  office ;  four 
times  a  member  of  the  Illinois  Legislature,  and  elected 
to  the  Lower  House  of  the  next  Congress. 

Lincoln  was  the  only  Whig  elected  from  Illinois. 
He  found  himself  a  member  of  the  House  among  such 
men  as  John  Quincy  Adams,  Horace  Mann  and  Andrew 
Johnson.  His  old  rival,  Stephen  A.  Douglas,  was  now 
for  the  first  time  in  the  Senate.  Daniel  Webster  was 
then  also  in  the  Senate  and  with  him  Lincoln  had  many 
a  pleasant  Saturday  breakfast,  a  weekly  social  occasion 
when  illustrious  New  Englanders  gathered  at  the  board 
and  were  regaled  by  the  tall  Westerner's  lively  talk. 
On  one  occasion  Lincoln  transacted  some  simple  legal 


POLITICS  AND  CONGRESS  177 

matter  for  Webster,  and  as  he  only  charged  him  ten 
dollars,  Webster  used  to  declare  "I  owe  him  money  on 
it  to  this  day." 

He  lived  very  quietly  and  simply  in  Washington,  his 
chief  diversion  being  an  occasional  game  at  the  bowling 
alley  near  his  rooms.  He  always  entered  with  great 
zest  into  the  contest,  but  whether  he  won  or  not  he 
was  good-humored. 

He  was  a  great  favorite  at  his  boarding  house,  kept 
by  a  Mrs.  Spriggs  on  Capitol  Hill.  His  fellows  liked 
him  to  come  into  the  dining-room,  for  he  was  one  of 
the  few  people  who  could  discuss  politics*  without  fly- 
ing into  a  rage.  His  even  temper  kept  the  arguments 
from  growing  heated,  and  if  some  one  was  inclined 
to  grow  angry,  he  could  always  tell  an  anecdote  and 
clear  the  atmosphere  with  a  laugh. 

Lincoln's  routine  duty  in  Congress  was  committee 
work  on  post  office  and  post  roads,  a  subject  which 
could  not  but  interest  a  one-time  country  postmaster. 
His  "first  little  speech"  he  wrote  home  was  on  "a 
postoffice  question  of  no  general  interest"  and  in  de- 
livering it  he  said  he  found  himself  just  "about  as 
badly  scared  and  no  worse  than  when  addressing  a 
court."  Just  after  the  holidays  in  January,  1848,  he 
brought  forward  what  became  nicknamed  the  "Spot 
Resolutions."  President  Polk  in  his  message  had  stated 
that  Mexico  invaded  our  territory  and  had  "shed  the 
blood  of  our  citizens  on  our  own  soil/'  Lincoln  in  his 
"Resolutions,"  asked  the  President  to  name  the  spot 
where  such  occurrences  had  taken  place. 

By  far  the  most  significant  move  Lincoln  made 
during  this  uneventful  term  of  office,  was  his  attempt 


178    THE  DRAMATIC  LITE  OF  LINCOLN 

to  put  through  a  bill  which  he  himself  drew  up  pre- 
senting a  plan  for  purchasing  and  freeing  all  slaves 
in  the  District  of  Columbia. 

The  fearful  impression  made  on  Lincoln  at  the  New 
Orleans  slave-market  never  wholly  left  his  mind.  He 
had  not  spoken  idly  when  he  vowed  to  "hit  it"  if  he 
"ever  got  the  chance,"  and  thus  far  he  had  never  held 
office  without  making  a  chance,  however  futile,  to  hit 
at  least  at  "it." 

At  this  time  slavery  was  legal  in  the  national 
Capital.  Lincoln  considered  this  abhorrent  He  said 
of  it: 

"In  view  from  the  windows  of  the  Capitol  is  a  sort 
of  negro  livery-stable  where  droves  of  negroes  are 
collected,  temporarily  kept,  and  finally  taken  to 
Southern  markets,  precisely  like  droves  of  horses.,, 

That  such  a  condition  should  be  allowed  practically 
under  the  dome  of  the  Capitol  seemed  unbelievable  to 
him,  and  he  introduced  a  bill  which  would  have  the 
Federal  Government  pay  full  value  for  all  slaves  in  the 
District  of  Columbia,  free  the  older  ones  directly,  and 
the  younger  ones  as  soon  as  they  had  served  an  ap- 
prenticeship which  would  make  them  self-supporting. 
This  bill  was  read  and  approved  by  citizens  of  the  city 
who  held  most  diverse  opinions  on  slavery,  but  it  was 
never  allowed  to  come  up  for  vote.  So  Lincoln  had  to 
return  to  Springfield  at  the  end  of  the  term,  probably 
regretting  that  he  had  not  been  able  to  help  the  slaves. 

Lincoln's  term  was  now  coming  to  an  end.  He  had 
broken  into  the  ways  of  Washington,  learned  much 
about  Federal  administralion,  had  moreover  become 


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POLITICS  AND  CONGRESS  179 

well  known  as  "champion  story  teller  of  the  Capitol," 
and  he  was  ambitious  to  return  and  use  this  experience 
as  a  mere  beginning  for  more  advanced  work.  In  this 
he  was  disappointed.  His  attitude  toward  the  Mexican 
War  had  not  pleased  his  supporters. 

He  wrote  home  to  his  partner,  William  Herndon, 
"To  those  who  desire  that  I  should  be  elected,  as 
Mr.  Clay  said  of  the  annexation  of  Texas, — personally 
I  would  not  object  if  it  should  so  happen  that  nobody 
else  wishes  to  be  elected.  To  enter  myself  as  the  com- 
petitor of  others  or  to  authorize  any  one  to  enter  me 
is  what  my  word  and  honor  forbid." 

He  had  given  his  "word  of  honor,"  as  had  his  col- 
leagues, Hardin  and  Baker,  not  to  stand  in  the  way  of 
one  another  toward  Congressional  election,  but  as  there 
were  many  capable  young  Springfield  men  ambitious 
for  this  honor,  they  made  an  agreement  to  be  content 
with  a  single  term.  It  happened  that  Lincoln's  old 
friend  and  partner,  Judge  Logan,  now  came  up  for 
nomination,  but  lost  the  election. 

In  the  intervening  Presidential  campaign  Lincoln 
electioneered  for  "Old  Rough  and  Ready" — General 
Zachary  Taylor — in  place  of  Clay,  because,  as  he  urged 
the  Whigs,  "Mr.  Clay's  chance  for  election  is  just  no 
chance  at  all."  Lincoln  returned  triumphant  from  the 
Whig  Convention  at  Philadelphia,  where  Taylor  was 
nominated. 

At  the  end  of  Lincoln's  Congressional  term  President 
Taylor  offered  him  the  Washington  position  of  Com- 
missioner of  the  General  Land  Office,  but  his  faithful 
adherence  to  the  pledge  of  liberality  with  his  fellows 


180    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

made  him  refuse  this  appointment  in  favor  of  an  Illi- 
nois friend  whom  he  recommended  in  his  place.  Pres- 
ident Taylor  then  offered  to  appoint  him  Governor  of 
the  new  territory  of  Oregon,  not  yet  a  state.  This 
position  thoroughly  appealed  to  Lincoln's  pioneering 
and  constructive  spirit,  but  he  relinquished  the  office 
because  his  wife,  tied  down  to  the  family  cares  of  very 
young  children,  was  reluctant  to  live  in  a  place  so 
unsettled  and  so  far  out  of  the  way. 

Lincoln's  effective  campaigning  for  Zachary  Taylor 
directed  the  nation's  attention  upon  him. 

He  gave  one  speech  for  Taylor  from  the  floor  of 
Congress  on  July  2.7.  He  chose  to  make  his  points  by 
caricaturing  and  drollery,  and  he  kept  the  House  in  a 
gale  of  laughter.  The  Baltimore  American  in  its  ac- 
count called  it  the  "crack  speech  of  the  day,"  and  said : 

"He  is  a  very  able,  acute,  uncouth,  honest,  upright 
man,  and  a  tremendous  wag  withal.  His  manner  was 
so  good-natured,  and  his  style  so  peculiar,  that  he  kept 
the  House  in  a  continuous  roar  of  merriment  for  the 
last  hour  of  his  speech." 

This  speech  became  so  successful  that  the  campaign 
leaders  invited  Lincoln  to  speak  at  various  places  in 
New  England.  He  addressed  a  meeting  first  at 
Worcester,  Mass.,  on  September  12.  He  defined  his 
stand  on  the  slavery  question  clearly  and  carefully; 
and  of  all  the  brilliant  speeches  of  that  evening  his 
was  the  one  which  by  its  rare  combination  of  argu- 
ment and  wit  did  most  for  the  Whig  cause. 

The  important  result  of  his  trip  up  into  New  Eng- 
land, however,  was  the  realization  which  it  gave  him 
that  the  Northern  conviction  that  slavery  was  evil  could 


POLITICS  AND  CONGRESS  181 

never  be  reconciled  with  the  Southern  idea  that  it  was 
good.    He  stated  it  thus  to  Governor  Seward: 

"We  have  got  to  deal  with  this  slavery  question,  and 
got  to  give  it  much  more  attention  than  we  have  been 
doing.,, 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE    "HOME    FOLKS" 

In  spite  of  the  demands  of  his  broadening  career 
and  increasing  fame,  Lincoln  never  forgot  nor  neg- 
lected his  relatives.  He  sent  home  money  regularly, 
even  when  it  meant  a  very  definite  sacrifice  to  do  so 
and  when  he  knew  only  too  well  that  the  money  would 
be  spent  unwisely  and  followed  by  requests  for  more. 

For  this  reason  he  sometimes  had  to  exercise  a  firm- 
ness and  wisdom  in  helping  his  step-brother  John  John- 
ston, whose  ever-increasing  brood  now  fairly  over- 
flowed the  cabin,  though  John's  energy  in  providing  for 
them  did  not  increase  in  proportion,  as  this  letter  of 
Lincoln's  to  his  "poor  relation"  shows : 

"Dear  Johnston  : 

"Your  request  for  eighty  dollars  I  do  not  think  it 
best  to  comply  with  now.  At  the  various  times  when 
I  have  helped  you  a  little  you  have  said  to  me  'we  can 
get  along  very  well  now,'  but  in  a  very  short  time  I 
find  you  in  the  same  difficulty.  Now  this  can  only 
happen  by  some  defect  in  your  conduct.  What  that 
defect  is,  I  think  I  know.  You  are  not  lazy,  and  still 
you  are  an  idler. 

"You  are  now  in  need  of  some  money;  and  what 
I  propose  is  that  you  shall  go  to  work  'tooth  and  nail' 
for  somebody  who  will  give  you  money  for  it.     Let 

182 


THE  "HOME  FOLKS"  183 

Father  and  the  boys  take  charge  of  things  at  home, 
prepare  for  a  crop  and  make  the  crop ;  and  you  go  to 
work  for  the  best  money  wages, — or  in  discharge  of 
any  debt — that  you  can  get;  and  to  secure  you  a  fair 
reward  for  your  labor,  I  now  promise  you  that  for 
every  dollar  you  will,  between  this  and  the  first  of 
next  May,  get  for  your  own  labor,  either  as  money 
or  as  discharging  your  own  indebtedness,  I  will  give 
you  one  other  dollar.  By  this,  if  you  hire  yourself 
at  ten  dollars  a  month,  from  me  you  will  get  ten  more, 
making  twenty  dollars  for  your  work.  In  this  I  do 
not  mean  you  should  go  off  to  St.  Louis  or  the  lead 
mines,  or  the  gold  fields  of  California,  but  I  mean  for 
you  to  go  at  it  for  the  best  wages  you  can  get  close 
at  home,  in  Coles  County. 

"You  say  you  would  almost  give  your  place  in  heaven 
for  seventy  or  eighty  dollars.  Then  you  value  your 
place  in  heaven  very  cheap,  for  I  am  sure  you  can,  with 
the  offer  I  make,  get  the  seventy  or  eighty  dollars  for 
four  or  five  months'  work.  You  say  if  I  will  furnish 
you  the  money  you  will  deed  me  the  land,  and  if  you 
don't  pay  back  the  money  you  will  deliver  possession. 
Nonsense,  if  you  can't  now  live  with  the  land,  how  will 
you  then  live  without  it?  You  have  always  been  kind 
to  me  and  I  do  not  mean  to  be  unkind  to  you.  On  the 
contrary,  if  you  will  but  follow  my  advice,  you  will 
find  it  worth  more  than  eighty  times  eighty  dollars  to 
you." 

Thomas  Lincoln  lived  to  see  his  son  become  Con- 
gressman and  an  orator  of  national  repute.  He  died 
when  he  was  seventy-three,  in  still  another  cabin,  at  a 


184    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

place  called  Goose  Nest  Prairie  where  he  had  restlessly 
moved  once  more.  This  cabin,  more  pretentious  than 
the  others,  consisted  properly,  of  a  pair  of  small  cabins 
connected,  with  one  common  chimney,  a  cook  shed 
and  loft.  It  had  a  sway-backed  shingle  roof  and  its 
sides  were  not  the  same  old  round  logs  but  "slabs," — 
distant  cousin  to  the  trimmer  clapboard. 

When  John  notified  his  step-brother  of  their  father's 
serious  illness,  Lincoln  wrote : 

"I  sincerely  hope  Father  may  yet  recover  his  health, 
but  at  all  events,  tell  him  to  remember  to  call  upon, 
and  confide  in  our  great  and  merciful  Maker,  who  will 
not  turn  away  from  him  in  any  extremity.  He  notes 
the  fall  of  the  sparrow,  and  numbers  the  hairs  of  our 
heads,  and  He  will  not  forget  the  dying  man  who  puts 
his  trust  in  Him.  Say  to  him  that,  if  we  could  meet 
now,  it  is  doubtful  whether  it  would  be  more  painful 
than  pleasant,  but  if  it  is  his  lot  to  go  now,  he  will 
soon  have  a  joyful  meeting  with  loved  ones  gone  be- 
fore, and  where  the  rest  of  us,  through  the  mercy  of 
God,  hope  ere  long,  to  join  him." 

It  was  the  writer  of  this  letter  whom  his  political 
enemies  accused  of  being  anti-Christian ! 

The  following  letters  show  more  vividly  than  any 
wordy  description  the  contrasting  characters  of  the  two 
half-brothers  who  had  both  been  "raised"  in  the  self- 
same unpromising  surroundings. 

"Shelbyville,  Nov.  4,  185 1. 
"Dear  Brother  :  When  I  came  into  Charleston,  day 
before  yesterday,  I  heard  you  were  anxious  to  sell  the 


THE  "HOME  FOLKS"  185 

land  where  you  live  and  move  to  Missouri.  I  have  been 
thinking  of  this  ever  since  and  cannot  but  think  such 
a  notion  is  utterly  foolish.  What  can  you  do  in  Mis- 
souri any  better  than  here?  Is  the  land  any  richer? 
Can  you  there,  any  more  than  here,  raise  corn  and 
wheat  and  oats  without  work?  Will  anybody  there, 
any  more  than  here,  do  your  work  for  you?  If  you 
intend  to  go  to  work  there  is  no  better  place  than  right 
where  you  are;  if  you  do  not  intend  to  go  to  work 
you  cannot  get  along  anywhere.  Squirming  and  crawl- 
ing about  from  place  to  place  can  do  no  good.  You 
have  raised  no  crop  this  year  and  what  you  really  want 
is  to  sell  the  land,  get  the  money  and  spend  it.  Part 
with  the  land  you  have,  and  my  life  upon  it,  you  will 
never  after  own  a  spot  big  enough  to  bury  you  in. 
Half  you  will  get  for  the  land  you  will  spend  in  moving 
to  Missouri,  and  the  other  half  you  will  eat  and  drink 
and  wear  out  and  no  foot  of  land  will  be  bought. 

"Now  I  feel  it  is  my  duty  to  have  no  hand  in  such 
a  piece  of  foolery.  I  feel  that  it  is  so  even  on  your 
own  account,  and  particularly  on  Mother's  account. 
The  eastern  forty  acres  I  intend  to  keep  for  Mother 
while  she  lives ;  if  you  will  not  cultivate  it,  it  will  rent 
for  enough  to  support  her,  at  least  it  will  rent  for 
something.  Her  dower  in  the  other  two  forties  she 
can  let  you  have  and  no  thanks  to  me. 

"Now  do  not  misunderstand  this  letter.  I  do  not 
write  it  in  any  unkindness.  I  write  it  in  order,  if  pos- 
sible, to  get  you  to  face  the  truth,  which  truth  is,  you 
are  destitute  because  you  have  idled  away  all  your  time. 
Your  thousand  pretenses  deceive  nobody  but  yourself. 
Go  to  work  is  the  only  cure  for  your  case." 


186    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

Lincoln's  devotion  to  his  stepmother  is  nowhere 
better  set  forth  than  in  this  letter  of  his  own,  defending 
her  from  her  own  son : 

"Springfield,  Nov.  25,  1851. 
"Dear  Brother:  Your  letter  of  the  22nd  is  just 
received.  Your  proposal  about  selling  the  last  forty 
acres  is  all  that  I  could  want  or  ask  for  myself,  but 
I  am  not  satisfied  with  it  on  Mother's  account.  I  want 
her  to  have  her  living  and  I  feel  that  it  is  my  duty, 
to  some  extent,  to  see  that  she  is  not  wronged.  She 
had  a  right  of  dower  (that  is,  use  of  one  third  for  life) 
in  the  other  two  forties,  but  it  seems  she  has  already 
let  you  take  that,  hook  and  line.  She  now  has  the  use 
of  the  whole  east  forty  as  long  as  she  lives,  and  if  it 
be  sold  of  course  she  is  entitled  to  the  interest  on  all 
the  money  it  brings  as  long  as  she  lives ;  but  you  pro- 
pose to  sell  it  for  three  hundred  dollars,  take  one  hun- 
dred away  with  you  and  leave  her  two  hundred  at 
8  per  cent,  making  her  the  enormous  sum  of  sixteen 
dollars  a  year !  Now,  if  you  are  satisfied  with  treating 
her  in  that  way,  /  am  not.  It  is  true  that  you  are  to 
have  that  forty  for  two  hundred  dollars  at  Mother's 
death,  but  you  are  not  to  have  it  before.  I  am  confident 
that  the  land  can  be  made  to  produce  for  Mother  at 
least  $30  a  year,  and  I  cannot,  to  oblige  any  living 
person,  consent  that  she  be  put  on  an  allowance  of 
sixteen  dollars  a  year. 

"Yours,  etc. 

"A.  Lincoln." 


PART   IV 

The  "Slavery  Question" 
"I  know  I  am  right  because  I  know  liberty  is  right.'' 


CHAPTER  XXI 

LINCOLN   OPENS   FIRE   ON   SLAVERY 

Lincoln  had  returned  from  Washington  in  1849 
with  just  enough  political  disappointment  to  make  him 
satisfied  to  settle  down  for  a  time  into  private  life  and 
law  practice  in  Springfield.  He  was  now  senior  mem- 
ber of  the  firm  of  Lincoln  &  Herndon,  having  taken 
as  his  junior  partner  William  H.  Herndon,  formerly 
an  ambitious  young  clerk  in  Joshua  Speed's  store,  who 
had  succeeded  in  being  admitted  to  the  bar,  and  who 
later  devoted  much  time  to  a  biography  of  Lincoln 
based  on  a  painstaking  assembling  of  various  personal 
reminiscences. 

It  was  natural  that  Lincoln  should  now  be  consulted 
often  in  the  filling  of  local  offices,  and  equally  to  be 
expected  that  many  a  politician  and  office  seeker  pressed, 
upon  him  to  urge  their  personal  claims  for  appoint- 
ments. In  handling  such  people  Lincoln  was  always 
characteristically  scrupulous  in  his  political  honesty  and 
humorously  tactful  in  his  dealings,  as  is  shown  in  this 
letter  to  the  Secretary  of  State  on  one  such  recom- 
mendation : 

"Mr.  Bond  I  know  to  be,  personally,  in  every  way 

worthy  of  the  office;  and  he  is  very  numerously  and 

most  respectably  recommended.    His  papers  I  send  to 

you;  and  I  solicit  for  his  claims  a  full  and  fair  con- 

189 


190    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

sideration.  Having  said  this  much,  I  add,  that,  in  my 
individual  judgment,  the  appointment  of  Mr.  Thomas 
would  be  better." 

That  Lincoln  was  as  scrupulous  in  his  private  prac- 
tice as  in  his  recommendations  for  public  offices,  is 
illustrated  by  an  incident  which  occurred  in  his  law 
practice  with  Ward  Lamon,  who  was,  at  one  time,  his 
partner.     Mr.  Lamon  himself  tells  of  this. 

A  man  named  Scott  placed  with  them  a  case  which 
was  to  prevent  an  adventurer  from  marrying  an  insane 
girl  in  order  to  get  possession  of  her  $10,000.  The 
girl  was  his  sister,  and  he  was  trustee  of  her  estate. 
He  asked  in  advance  what  the  fee  would  be,  and  Mr. 
Lamon  said  $250;  but  that  he  had  better  wait,  for 
it  might  be  less  if  the  case  proved  an  easy  one  to 
plead.  Scott,  however,  expected  that  it  would  be  a 
difficult  case,  and  so  insisted  on  the  $250.  The  trial 
was  over  in  twenty  minutes,  and  Scott  paid  his  money 
and  was  satisfied. 

When  Lincoln  heard  of  this,  he  was  indignant  at 
his  partner.  He  considered  the  charge  so  unfair  that 
he  insisted  he  would  not  touch  a  penny  of  it.  So 
Lamon  finally  had  to  return  half  of  it  to  Mr.  Scott, 
who  was  greatly  surprised  at  such  scruples. 

Judge  Davis  of  the  Circuit  Court  heard  of  this  and 
told  Lincoln  that  he  was  foolish  to  be  so  particular. 
"You  will  die  as  poor  as  Job's  turkey,"  he  said. 

Lincoln,  however,  felt  that  the  money  belonged  to 
the  demented  girl  and  he  said : 

"I  would  rather  starve  than  swindle  her  in  that 
way." 


LINCOLN  OPENS  FIRE  ON  SLAVERY    191 

That  evening  some  lawyers  gave  Lincoln  a  mock 
trial  for  keeping  money  from  the  pockets  of  his 
brethren  of  the  bar  by  such  actions.  He  took  it  all 
in  good  spirits  and  kept  the  crowd  laughing  at  his 
sallies  until  late  at  night.  He  still  maintained,  though, 
that  he  would  never  join  that  traditional  firm  of 
lawyers,  "Catchem  &  Cheatem." 

Lincoln's  quick  wit  and  ready  humor  were  shown  on 
another  occasion  when  this  same  partner,  Lamon,  tore 
his  trousers  just  before  he  had  to  plead  a  case.  His 
coat  was  too  short  to  cover  the  accident,  and  the  other 
lawyers  began  to  pass  a  mock  subscription  paper  around 
"to  buy  a  pair  of  pantaloons  for  Lamon.''  When  it 
came  to  Lincoln  he  wrote,  "I  can  contribute  nothing  to 
the  end  in  view" 

The  Ward  Lamon  of  these  stories  is  to  be  remem- 
bered as  Marshal  of  the  District  of  Columbia  who  was 
concerned  for  the  personal  safety  of  Lincoln  during 
his  Presidency.  It  was  Mr.  Lamon,  who,  with  the 
famous  detective  Pinkerton,  served  as  Lincoln's  body- 
guard on  his  trip  to  Washington  after  election,  of 
which  more  will  be  told  later. 

The  Presidency  was  still  afar  off.  In  the  mean- 
while Lincoln  continued  on  the  circuit,  and  the  nights 
he  spent  pleasantly  when  on  these  trips  in  intimacy 
with  families  in  isolated  cabins  did  more  than  he  ever 
dreamed  then,  of  welding  popular  sentiment  in  his  be- 
half. There  was  not  a  cabin  on  the  circuit  in  which 
he  rocked  the  baby,  gave  the  children  candy,  chopped 
firewood,  and  dined  on  buttermilk,  cornbread  and  home 
smoked  ham  that  did  not  later  send  forth  at  least  one 
voter  for  his  cause.     Of  this  political  expediency  he 


192    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

did  not  think  then.  It  was  the  very  sincerity  of  his 
enjoyment  of  cabin  hospitality  which  won  for  him  re- 
gard he  would  have  lost  at  the  least  sign  of  patronage. 

Lincoln  later  became  famed  for  his  mercy  when  war 
president  and  the  basis  of  this  mercy  was  early  seen 
in  little  things.  One  day  while  riding  on  horseback 
from  one  circuit  court  to  another,  Lincoln  and  several 
fellow  lawyers,  who  were  riding  with  him,  came  to  a 
wide  mud  hole  where,  at  one  side  of  the  road,  they 
saw  a  pig  stuck  almost  over  its  depth  in  deep  mire 
near  a  rail  fence.  The  more  violently  the  pig  struggled, 
the  deeper  and  more  hopelessly  it  sank  into  the  mud, 
until  it  was  plain  to  all  that  unless  rescued,  the  animal 
would  eventually  slump  down  exhausted,  and,  held  fast, 
might  die  there  in  the  mud  hole.  Its  struggles  and 
squeals  convulsed  the  lawyers  and  they  guffawed  heart- 
ily at  the  unfortunate  pig's  dilemma.  Lincoln,  how- 
ever, said  compassionately,  "Let  us  stop  and  help  the 
poor  thing  out."  At  this  the  others  roared  louder  than 
ever  and  shouted,  "Oh,  Abe,  you're  crazy!  Your 
clothes  would  look  fine  for  the  courtroom,  wouldn't 
they,  after  you  hauled  that  filthy  pig  out?" 

They  made  such  fun  of  Lincoln  that  he  rode  on  witH 
them  for  quite  a  long  distance.  But  his  conscience 
bothered  him.  The  pig's  piteous  squeals  and  frantic 
struggles  lingered  in  his  mind.  Moreover,  he  knew 
only  too  well  that  a  pig  is  too  valuable  a  piece  of 
property  for  a  farmer  to  lose  without  feeling  the  loss 
acutely.  He  therefore  drew  up  short  and  turned  his 
horse  around.  "It's  no  use,  boys,"  he  said,  "I  won't 
be  comfortable  until  I  get  that  pig  out.  You  go  on 
and  I'll  overtake  you." 


LINCOLN  OPENS  FIRE  ON  SLAVERY    193 

He  thereupon  hurried  back,  and  from  a  distance 
could  hear  the  pig  squealing  vainly  on  the  deserted 
country  road.  It  was  now  so  far  in  the  mire  and  so 
surrounded  by  deep  and  sticky  mud  that  to  haul  it  out 
without  smearing  his  clothes  presented  quite  a  little 
engineering  problem  for  the  lawyer.  Lincoln  helped 
himself  to  some  fence  rails,  and  laid  them  down  to 
stand  on.  With  a  couple  of  other  rails  which  he  poked 
under  the  sunken  animal  he  succeeded  in  prying  it 
loose  enough  to  pull  out  with  his  hands,  and  finally 
set  the  pig  safe  on  dry  grass  inside  the  fence.  There 
was  mud  all  over  Lincoln's  coat  and  trousers  and 
daubed  upon  his  hands,  but  the  curly-tailed  pig  re- 
stored to  safety  scampered  home  grunting  shrilly  in 
relief  and  gratitude. 

"Well,"  thought  Lincoln,  remounting  and  looking 
ruefully  at  his  clothes,  "let  the  boys  laugh,  I  can  get 
cleaned  up  again,  the  pig's  safe  and  the  farmer's  chil- 
dren won't  lack  meat  this  winter." 

This  story  reminds  one  of  a  similar  tale  preserved 
by  Joseph  H.  Barrett  which  he  tells  in  this  way : — 

"One  day  Lincoln,  Baker,  Hardin,  Speed  and  others 
were  riding  on  horseback  along  the  road  two-and-two 
some  distance  from  Springfield.  In  passing  a  thicket 
of  wild  plum  and  crabapple  trees,  Lincoln  and  Hardin 
in  the  rear,  the  former  discovered  by  the  roadside  two 
young  birds  not  old  enough  to  fly.  They  had  been 
shaken  from  their  nest  by  a  recent  gale. 

"  The  old  bird,'  said  Mr.  Speed,  'was  fluttering  about 
and  wailing  as  a  mother  ever  does  for  her  babes.  Lin- 
coln stopped,  hitched  his  horse,  caught  the  birds,  hunted 
the  nest,  and  placed  them  in  it.     The  rest  of  us  rode 


194    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

on  to  a  creek,  and  while  the  horses  were  drinking 
Hardin  rode  up. 

"  Where  is  Lincoln  ?'  said  one. 

"  'Oh,  when  I  saw  him  last  he  had  two  little  birds 
in  his  hand,  looking  for  their  nest/  " 

It  is  not  surprising  that  a  man  thus  tender-hearted 
would,  even  in  war  time,  mercifully  reprieve  a  prisoner 
or  sleeping  sentinel. 

So,  in  quiet  Springfield  days  long  before  his  plunge 
into  war  politics,  Lincoln  evinced  those  qualities  for 
which  he  has  become  immortal, — humor,  honesty,  ten- 
derness, and  his  grip  upon  the  hearts  of  plain  people. 

It  was  during  these  days,  in  1855,  that  Lincoln  first 
met  Edwin  M.  Stanton,  later  his  Secretary  of  War. 

The  two  appeared  as  associate  counsel  with  Geo. 
Harding  for  the  defendant  in  a  case  before  the  United 
States  Circuit  Court  in  Cincinnati.  As  the  plaintiff 
had  but  two  attorneys  and  the  defendant  three,  one 
of  these  three  had  to  be  dropped.  The  choice  lay  be- 
tween Lincoln  and  Stanton.  Lincoln,  to  his  keen  dis- 
appointment, was  dropped. 

But  his  chief  chagrin  came  from  the  treatment 
which  Stanton  accorded  him.  He  plainly  showed  his 
disdain  and  described  Lincoln  as  "a  long,  lank  crea- 
ture from  Illinois,  wearing  a  dirty  duster  for  a  coat, 
on  the  back  of  which  the  perspiration  had  splotched 
wide  stains  that  resembled  a  map  of  the  continent." 

He  was  so  openly  rude  and  sneering  that  Lincoln 
was  deeply  hurt  and  said,  "I  have  never  been  so  brutally 
treated  as  by  that  man  Stanton." 

,The  acid  Stanton,  however,  changed  from  an  abusive 


LINCOLN  OPENS  FIRE  ON  SLAVERY    195 

enemy  of  Lincoln's  to  his  staunch  friend,  after  Lin- 
coln, in  the  face  of  Stanton's  bitterness,  had  the  fore- 
sight and  magnanimity  to  appoint  him  to  the  war 
Cabinet. 

The  serene  days  in  Springfield  were  to  prove  only 
the  stillness  before  a  storm.  While  quietly  practicing 
law,  the  slavery  question,  like  an  alarm,  broke  in  upon 
the  Nation's  peace,  and  Lincoln  rose  to  the  call.  He 
was  to  lead  a  quiet  life  no  more. 

The  specific  instance  which  roused  Lincoln  and  de- 
cided him  that  it  was  now  time  for  him  to  return  to 
politics  was  the  Repeal  of  the  Missouri  Compromise. 

In  order  to  understand  what  now  went  on  it  is  ob- 
viously necessary  to  know  what  the  Missouri  Com- 
promise was  and  just  what  its  repeal  involved.  The 
complexities  of  this  matter  may  be  best  grasped  when 
boiled  down  to  the  fewest  possible  words. 

Briefly  then,  when  Missouri  wished  to  join  the  Union 
as  a  state  this  question  rose : 

"Shall  it  be  a  slave  state  or  a  free  state?"  There 
was  a  battle  in  Congress  over  this;  the  House  fought 
against  slavery,  then  the  Senate  fought  for  it. 

There  seemed  to  be  alarming  reason  to  believe  that 
the  Union  would  break  up  on  that  point  then  and  there. 

To  prevent  this,  a  compromise  was  made,  both  sides 
yielding  something.  It  was  agreed  on  March  6,  1820, 
that  Missouri  should  be  admitted  as  a  slave  state  but 
that  all  the  rest  of  the  territory  north  of  latitude 
£6°  30'  (which  was  Missouri's  southern  boundary )j 
should  always  remain  free. 

This  was  the  Missouri  Compromise. 


196    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

Thirty- four  years  later  Nebraska  and  Kansas  of  that 
free  territory  north  of  360  30'  applied  for  statehood. 
Stephen  A.  Douglas  succeeded  in  introducing  a  bill 
declaring  the  Missouri  Compromise  void  and  proposing 
that  all  settlers  in  Nebraska  and  Kansas  could  exclude 
or  establish  slavery  there  as  they  desired.  This 
"Kansas-Nebraska  Bill"  was  passed  in  1854  and  con- 
stituted the  Repeal  of  the  Missouri  Compromise.  This 
Repeal  so  roused  Lincoln  that  he  flung  himself  into 
politics  on  this  point  with  far-reaching  results. 

So  much  for  the  state  of  affairs  reduced  to  its 
simplest  terms. 

As  this  subject  affected  Lincoln  so  profoundly,  and 
as  his  influence  upon  the  matter  is  the  keynote  to  the 
rest  of  his  life,  and  the  future  of  the  whole  country,  we 
cannot  afford  to  skip  over  the  topic  too  hastily. 

Let  us,  then,  consider  it  a  little  more  carefully.  Two 
points  emphasize  themselves: 

1.  Why  all  the  argument  about  slavery  in  a  new 
state,  why  not  let  it  settle  itself? 

2.  Why  did  Missouri  happen  to  be  the  bone  of  con- 
tention :  why  not  some  other  state  ? 

First  of  all  it  must  be  realized  that  the  whole  point 
of  the  argument  was  not  "is  slavery  right  or  wrong?" 
but  "has  Congress  a  right  to  limit  a  state's  own  self- 
determination  ?" 

Whether  slavery  was  good  or  bad  had  technically 
nothing  to  do  with  the  case.  A  good  many  Southern 
slave  owners  themselves  felt  that  slavery  was  wrong 
and  they  often  freed  their  own  slaves  of  their  own  ac- 
cord. But  these  very  owners  were  just  as  likely  as 
not  to  uphold  the  idea,  all  the  same,  that  each  state 


LINCOLN  OPENS  FIRE  ON  SLAVERY    197 

should  decide  for  itself  whether  it  should  be  slave  or 
free  without  Congressional  interference.  In  other 
words,  they  believed  in  "states'  rights."  They  believed 
that  the  country  should  consist  of  a  confederation  of 
friendly  separate  and  independent  states,  and  not  one 
solidified  country  ruled  by  one  central  government. 

It  became  not  so  much  a  question  of  moral  right  as 
a  question  whether  the  Federal  Government  should 
hereafter  have  power  to  dictate  what  each  state  must 
do.  The  South  argued  that  each  state  should  decide 
things  for  itself  without  Federal  intervention. 

In  the  first  place,  the  Union  was  an  association  of 
independent  states.  With  the  Nation's  growth  the 
problem  was  bound  to  rise  as  to  how  much  power  the 
one  central  government  should  exert.  Sooner  or  later  a 
decision  had  to  be  made  as  to  how  far  each  state  could 
be  independent  of  the  Federal  Government.  It  simply 
happened  that  this  issue  now  hung  up  on  the  immediate 
problem  of  slavery.  If  states'  rights  and  slavery  had 
not  happened  to  connect  in  this  way  it  is  not  improb- 
able that  eventually  some  of  the  many  plans  even  then 
offered  for  gradual  emancipation  would  have  ulti- 
mately freed  the  slaves  with  no  bloodshed.  But  the 
question  of  States'  Rights  vs.  Federal  Power  would 
surely  have  risen  again  on  some  other  point  and  Seces- 
sion threatened  until  this  problem  was  decided  once  and 
for  all. 

The  Missouri  Compromise  was  not  so  much  a  vic- 
tory for  slavery  supporters  as  it  was  the  setting  of  a 
precedent  for  future  Federal  intervention  in  a  state's 
self-determination.    This  was  the  important  point. 

The  Repeal  of  the  Compromise  was  serious  in  its 


198    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

implications  of  the  power  to  set  aside  Federal  decision. 

Now  why  was  Missouri  the  crux  of  the  situation  ? 

To  begin  with,  when  the  Thirteen  Original  States 
declared  their  independence  and  formed  a  union,  the 
"Union"  itself  did  not  own  territory, — the  states  them- 
selves individually  owned  it.  For  instance,  Virginia 
owned  the  Northwestern  Territory,  that  is,  the  land 
now  cut  up  into  the  states  of  West  Virginia,  Ohio, 
Indiana,  Michigan,  Wisconsin.  When  the  decision  to 
cede  this  territory  to  the  central  government  was  made, 
Thomas  Jefferson,  compiler  of  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence, a  Virginian  and  slave  owner,  feeling  that 
slavery  was  wrong,  decided  that  it  should  be  prevented 
from  spreading  into  that  Northwestern  Territory.  He 
therefore  had  Virginia  cede  her  possessions  to  the  Gen- 
eral Government  with  the  stipulation  that  it  be  free  of 
slavery  forever. 

No  question  could  rise  therefore  as  to  whether  states 
made  up  of  this  free  land  should  be  slave  or  free.  This 
territory  was  free  from  the  beginning. 

Next  came  the  Louisiana  Purchase  of  French  Terri- 
tory which  added  to  the  government  the  region  even- 
tually divided  into  Louisiana,  Arkansas,  Missouri, 
Iowa,  Minnesota,  Kansas  and  Nebraska.  No  foregone 
conclusion  as  to  its  slavery  status  was  made. 

When  Missouri  sought  to  join  the  Union,  its  settlers 
were  already  slave  owners,  and  they  wanted  to  enter 
as  slave  state.  Anti-slavery  interests  in  the  North, 
seeking  to  limit  slavery,  brought  up  their  petition 
against  it  in  Congress  and  the  tussle  began. 

On  the  hotly  contested  point,  the  Union  seemed 
about  to  break.    ,The  Compromise  saved  it  for  the  time 


LINCOLN  OPENS  FIRE  ON  SLAVERY    199 

being.  Henry  Clay,  of  Kentucky,  was  Chairman  of 
the  Joint  Committee  picked  from  House  and  Senate 
which  drew  up  the  Compromise, — his  was  the  moving 
spirit  of  conciliation.  Clay  stood  for  emancipation  to 
be  put  through  gradually  in  order  to  preserve  economic 
stability,  and  he  advocated  curtailing  extension  of 
slavery  in  new  territory.  His  skill  in  handling  the 
problem  earned  him  the  name  of  "The  Great  Con- 
ciliator.' '  His  principles  Lincoln  adopted,  and  Clay 
may  be  regarded  as  Lincoln's  master  in  statesmanship. 

With  this  Compromise  the  Democratic  party  split. 
One-half  stood  firm  on  non-interference  with  slavery, 
as  protecting  state  government  from  Federal  decision. 
This  party,  to  which  Jackson  adhered,  dominated  the 
Senate. 

The  other  half,  under  Clay,  absorbed  the  defunct 
Republican  organization  and  eventually  became  the 
Whig  party,  which  Lincoln  supported.  They  were 
anti-slavenr  to  begin  with  and  against  territorial  ex- 
tension of  slavery  besides.  The  old  Democratic  party 
which  had  originally  been  named  "Republican"  by 
Thomas  Jefferson,  its  founder,  resented  the  Whig's 
use  of  that  name  and  -contemptuously  referred  to  them 
as  "Black  Republicans"  on  account  of  their  sympathy 
with  the  negroes. 

These  two  violent  political  forces  were  released  for 
combat  by  the  Missouri  Compromise  and  were  now 
further  stirred  by  the  reopening  of  dissension  in  the 
Repeal. 

There  still  remained  another  part  of  the  country  left 
open  to  the  slavery  contention.  After  the  Mexican 
war,    Mexican   territory,    including    California,    New 


200    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

Mexico  and  Utah,  was  annexed.  Gold  diggers  settled 
California  and  asked  for  admission  to  the  Union  as  a 
free  state.  The  old  quarrel  reopened.  Another  com- 
promise had  to  be  effected,  for  again  the  solidity  of  the 
Union  was  at  stake.  This  Compromise  balanced  things 
in  this  way:  The  North  won  California  as  a  free  state 
and  the  North  secured  abolition  of  slaves  in  the  District 
of  Columbia.  The  South,  in  turn,  was  granted  its 
Fugitive  Slave  Law  and  the  provision  that  on  the  entry 
of  Utah  and  New  Mexico  they  might  be  admitted  with 
or  without  slavery  as  they  saw  fit.  This  was  the  Com- 
promise of  1850,  and  Clay  was  again  the  leader  in 
compromising,  although  at  this  time  he  was  seventy- 
two  years  old. 

The  Compromise  simply  smoothed  the  situation 
down  for  the  time  being;  obviously  it  must  recur. 

Thomas  Jefferson  himself,  in  his  old  age,  watched 
the  struggle  of  the  original  Missouri  Compromise  and 
was  alarmed  for  the  Nation  he  had  toiled  so  to  help 
found.  Although  unfriendly  to  the  institution  of 
slavery  itself  he  favored  its  extension  into  Missouri  as 
it  would  "dilute  and  scatter  the  evil  without  increasing 
the  number  of  slaves."  He  was  deeply  disturbed  to 
watch  the  rise  of  parties  based  on  geographical  limits. 
He  foresaw,  even  then,  the  danger  ahead,  and  said, 
"From  the  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill  to  the  Treaty  of  Paris 
we  never  had  so  ominous  a  question.  I  thank  God  that 
I  shall  not  live  to  witness  the  issue."  Alarmed  for  the 
Nation's  future,  he  prophesied,  "The  question  sleeps 
for  the  present,  but  is  not  dead,"  and  again,  "This  mo- 
mentous question,  like  a  fire  bell  in  the  night,  awakes 
me,  and  fills  me  with  terror." 


LINCOLN  OPENS  FIRE  ON  SLAVERY    201 

With  what  terror  it  was  to  fill  the  whole  country 
we  shall  soon  see. 

Kansas  was  to  be  a  deciding  factor  in  the  struggle 
in  Congress,  for  the  balance  had  been  broken  by  the 
admission  of  California.  The  South  was  determined 
to  secure  the  Kansas  vote  and  no  sooner  had  President 
Pierce  signed  the  Kansas-Nebraska  bill  than  bands  of 
armed  slave-holders  moved  across  the  Missouri  River 
into  the  new  territory. 

To  counteract  this  the  New  England  Aid  Society  of 
Boston  sent  out  armed  settlers  to  found  a  town  of 
Laurence  farther  west. 

Each  of  these  two  rival  groups  set  up  a  state  govern- 
ment, and  raids  from  one  band  against  the  other  were 
so  frequent  that  the  state  was  soon  called  "Bleeding 
Kansas." 

In  addition,  then,  to  the  stand  for  state's  sovereignty 
the  South  coupled  the  desperate  conviction  that  pros- 
perity or  ruin  depended  upon  slavery.  The  North, 
where  slave  labor  was  less  vitally  essential  to  industry, 
hurled  forth  the  declaration  that  slavery  was  sin.  The 
South,  its  back  to  the  wall,  answered  in  grim  stubborn- 
ness that  it  was  a  necessity  and  a  divine  institution. 

The  slavery  question  was  by  itself  of  the  utmost 
importance  to  Southern  prosperity  at  the  time.  The 
whole  economic  fabric  of  Southern  industry  rested 
upon  it.  A  disruption  of  this  system  threatened  to 
put  the  South  to  ruin.  Industry  in  the  North  did  not 
depend  upon  slave  labor  as  it  did  in  the  agricultural 
South.  Tobacco  growing,  cotton  picking,  rice  and 
sugar  cane  cultivation,  the  farming  of  thousand-acred 
plantations,  all  depended  upon  plentiful  and  cheap  hand 


202    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

labor.  Without  it  (lacking  to-day's  machinery  and 
expedients)  cotton,  tobacco,  rice  and  sugar-growing 
could  not  go  on  profitably  and  plentifully.  Northern 
and  European  markets  would  suffer ;  the  very  livelihood 
of  the  South  would  be  at  stake.  An  entire  revolution 
and  immense  reorganization  of  industry  confronted  the 
country. 

The  solution  of  such  a  problem  seemed  so  formidable 
that  the  South  subordinated  the  question  as  to  the  moral 
right  of  slavery  to  the  grim  query  as  to  how  it  could 
exist,  and  on  what  would  the  armies  of  freed  slaves 
live,  in  a  land  where  agriculture,  the  chief  support, 
could  hardly  continue  on  its  tremendous  scale  without 
slave  labor. 

The  issue  therefore  for  which  they  grappled  had 
these  two  distinct  parts:  the  question  of  state  sover- 
eignty and  the  question  of  slavery  itself.  In  linking 
these  into  one  problem  the  nation  now  sought  to  kill 
two  birds  with  one  stone. 

Lincoln  threw  all  his  powers  into  the  fight-  against 
slavery.  He  argued  that  slavery  was  not  only  wrong 
but  that  it  was  economically  inexpedient,  and  that  it 
could  be  done  away  with  so  gradually  as  not  to  dis- 
rupt industry.  He  spoke  against  slavery  in  various 
speeches  from  which  these  are  excerpts : 

"Free  labor  has  the  inspiration  of  hope;  pure  slavery 
has  no  hope.  The  power  of  hope  upon  human  exertion 
and  happiness  is  wonderful.  The  slave  master  himself 
has  a  conception  of  it,  and  hence  the  system  of  tasks 
among  slaves.  The  slave  whom  you  cannot  drive  with 
the  lash  to  break  seventy-five  pounds  of  hemp  in  a  day, 
if  you  will  ask  him  to  break  a  hundred  and  promise 


LINCOLN  OPENS  FIRE  ON  SLAVERY    203 

him  pay  for  all  he  does  over,  will  break  you  a  hundred 
and  fifty.    You  have  substituted  hope  for  the  rod. 

"And  yet  perhaps  it  does  not  occur  to  you  that  to 
the  extent  of  your  gain  in  the  case  you  have  given  up 
the  slave  system  and  adopted  the  free  system  of  labor." 

In  another  early  speech  he  says : 

"If  A  can  prove,  however  conclusively,  that  he  may 
of  right  enslave  B,  why  may  not  B  snatch  the  same  ar- 
gument and  prove  equally  that  he  may  enslave  A  ?  You 
say  A  is  white  and  B  is  black.  It  is  color  then;  the 
lighter  having  the  right  to  enslave  the  darker?  Take 
care !  By  this  rule  you  are  to  be  slave  to  the  first  man 
you  meet  with  a  fairer  skin  than  your  own !  You  do 
not  mean  color,  exactly?  You  mean  the  whites  are 
intellectually  the  superiors  of  the  blacks,  and  therefore 
have  the  right  to  enslave  them  ?  Take  care  again !  By 
this  rule  you  are  to  be  slave  to  the  first  man  you  meet 
with  an  intellect  superior  to  your  own !  But,  say  you, 
it  is  a  question  of  interest,  and  if  you  make  it  your 
interest  you  have  the  right  to  enslave  another.  Very 
well.  And  if  he  can  make  it  his  interest  he  has  the 
right  to  enslave  your  So  much  for  his  attitude  on 
slavery  itself.  In  his  own  words  he  gives  the  follow- 
ing opinion  of  states'  rights  in  self-government  on  the 
matter. 

Speaking  of  the  Kansas-Nebraska  bill  he  says : 

"The  territory  is  what  Jefferson  foresaw  and  in- 
tended— the  happy  home  of  teeming  millions  of  free, 
white,  prosperous  people,  and  no  slave  among  them. 
But  now  a  new  light  breaks  upon  us.  Now  Congress 
declares  this  ought  never  to  have  been,  and  the  like  of 
it  must  never  be  again.    The  sacred  right  of  self -gov- 


204     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

ernment  is  grossly  violated  by  it.  We  even  find  some 
men  who  drew  their  first  breath — and  every  other 
breath  of  their  lives — under  this  restriction  and  now 
live  in  dread  of  absolute  suffocation  if  they  should  be 
restricted  in  the  'sacred  right'  of  taking  slaves  to 
Nebraska.  That  perfect  liberty  they  sigh  for — the  lib- 
erty of  making  slaves  of  other  people — Jefferson  never 
thought  of,  their  own  fathers  never  thought  of — they 
never  thought  of  themselves  a  year  ago!" 

The  excitement  over  Kansas  grew  throughout  the 
country  until  it  amounted  to  a  frenzy.     The  slave- 
holders had  formed  a  mob  and  seized  the  new  state, 
burned  the  capitol,  jailed  the  governor,  and  intimidated 
the  voters.    In  Illinois  a  Republican  Convention  opened 
to  organize  the  party  there.    The  audience  was  intense 
in  its  feeling,  but  to  be  dynamic,  the  meeting  needed   ' 
some  great  personality  to  guide  it,  inspire  it,  and  har-  i 
monize  the  discordant  elements.    Man  after  man  spoke  | 
to  no  purpose.    Finally  there  were  calls  of  "Lincoln  I" 
"Lincoln!"     The  crowd  took  it  up  until  at  last  a  tall 
figure  at  the  back  of  the  hall  stood  up  and  started 
down  the  aisle.     As  he  faced  his  audience,  a  change 
came  over  his  face.     He  felt  the  importance  of  the 
moment.    It  was  a  crisis  in  his  life. 

As  Lincoln  began  to  speak  there  was  a  hush  of  sus- 
pense with  an  undercurrent  of  suppressed  excitement 
as  if  some  premonition  pervaded  the  hall  that  his  words 
would  prove  momentous  to  the  entire  nation.  From  his 
first  words  he  held  the  company  so  spellbound  that  a 
truly  remarkable  thing  happened.  The  hall  was  full  of 
newspaper  reporters  who  were  ready  to  take  down  his 
speech,  but  their  attention  was  so  riveted  by  Lincoln's 


LINCOLN  OPENS  FIRE  ON  SLAVERY    205 

magnetism  and  rush  of  words  that  they  listened  ab- 
sorbed and  forgot  all  else.  Not  one  reporter  in  the 
whole  hall  took  down  a  word  of  the  speech!  After  it, 
as  they  came  back  to  a  realization  of  their  surround- 
ings, each  was  alarmed  to  find  he  had  made  not  a 
scratch  of  a  memorandum  on  a  speech  that  was  national 
news,  but  in  a  few  minutes  they  were  all  relieved  to 
find  that  no  other  reporter  had  "scooped"  them,  for 
every  one  was  so  lost  in  Lincoln's  words  that  not  one 
wrote  them  down.  Lincoln  had  spoken  unprepared  on 
the  spur  of  the  moment  and  at  white  heat.  He  had 
no  record  of  his  words  either,  and  so  this  unusual  and 
stirring  oration  became  known  as  "The  Lost  Speech." 
It  probably  carried  more  force  with  its  notoriety  for 
this  than  it  could  if  it  had  been  given  word  for  word. 

John  L.  Scripps  wrote  home  to  his  paper,  the  Chi- 
cago Tribune:  "Never  was  an  audience  more  completely 
electrified  by  human  eloquence.  Again  and  again  dur- 
ing its  delivery  they  sprang  to  their  feet  and  upon  the 
benches  and  testified  by  long-continued  shouts  and  wav- 
ing of  hats  how  deeply  the  speaker  had  wrought  upon 
their  minds  and  hearts.  It  fused  the  mass  of  incon- 
gruous elements  into  perfect  homogeneity;  and  from 
that  day  to  the  present  they  have  worked  together  in 
harmonious  and  fraternal  union." 

As  the  excited  crowd  was  passing  riotously  out, 
Jesse  K.  Dubois,  who  had  just  been  nominated  State 
Auditor,  squeezed  the  arm  of  Henry  C.  Whitney 
(later  Lincoln's  biographer)  in  a  painful  grip  and 
cried,  "That  is  the  greatest  speech  ever  made  in  Illinois 
and  puts  Lincoln  on  the  track  for  the  Presidency !" 

Of  this  unusual  speech  only  parts  have  been  pieced 


206    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

together,  only  some  phrases  and  fragments  preserved. 
It  was  the  same  Henry  C.  Whitney,  a  young  attorney 
associated  with  Lincoln  on  the  circuit  who  made  the 
effort  to  put  down  what  he  remembered  of  it,  amplified 
by  what  he  gleaned  from  others  who  heard  it,  and  his 
version  of  its  conclusion  follows : 

"We  must  restore  the  Missouri  Compromise!  We 
must  highly  resolve  that  Kansas  shall  be  free!  (Great 
applause.)  We  must  reinstate  the  birthday  promise  of 
the  Republic;  we  must  reaffirm  the  Declaration  of  In- 
dependence; we  must  make  good  in  essence  as  well  as 
in  form  Madison's  avowal  that  'the  word  slave  ought 
not  to  appear  in  the  Constitution/  and  we  must  even 
go  further  and  decree  that  only  local  law  and  not  that 
time-honored  instrument  shall  shelter  the  slave-holder. 

"We  must  make  this  a  land  of  liberty  in  fact  as  it 
is  in  name.  But  in  seeking  to  attain  these  results — so 
indispensable  if  the  liberty  which  is  our  pride  and  boast 
shall  endure — we  will  be  loyal  to  the  Constitution  and 
to  'the  Flag  of  our  Union/  and  no  matter  what  our 
grievance — even  though  Kansas  shall  come  in  as  a  slave 
state — and  no  matter  what  theirs — even  if  we  restore 
the  Compromise"  (here  his  voice  rose  in  that  climax 
which  gives  the  key  to  the  whole  Civil  War  situation) 
"we  will  say  to  the  Southern  disunionists,  we  won't 

gO  OUT  OF  THE  UNION  AND  YOU  SHAN' J !" 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE   GREAT   LINCOLN-DOUGLAS   DEBATES 

Lincoln's  "Lost  Speech"  won  him  instant  promi- 
nence. Twenty  days  after  it  the  National  Republican 
Convention  presented  his  name  as  nominee  for  Vice- 
President. 

When  news  of  this  reached  him  he  was  not  in  Phila- 
delphia at  the  Convention,  but  back  in  Illinois  quietly 
following  Judge  Davis, — the  Davis  who  had  reproved 
him  for  charging  such  low  fees  as  kept  him  "poor  as 
Job's  turkey" — around  on  the  circuit. 

One  of  the  lawyers  on  the  circuit  with  him  was 
Henry  C.  Whitney  who  tells  how  he  and  Judge  Davis, 
with  Lincoln  and  some  other  lawyers  were  putting  up 
at  the  village  "hotel"  in  Urbana  during  court  session. 
There  was  a  loud,  large  breakfast  gong  at  this  inn 
which  too  often  shattered  their  early  morning  sleep, 
and  Whitney,  Judge  Davis  and  the  others  mischie- 
vously elected  Lincoln  to  do  away  with  the  noisy  in- 
strument. On  the  day  that  news  of  his  nomination 
reached  him  Lincoln  had  left  court  early  and  slipped 
quietly  into  the  hotel  dining  room  to  kidnap  the  offen- 
sive gong.  He  was  just  hurrying  out  with  it  hidden 
under  his  coat  when  Whitney  and  Davis  rushed  upon 
him  waving  a  copy  of  the  Chicago  Tribune  that  bore 
the  news  that  his  name  had  received  no  votes  for  the 
Vice-Presidency.      Caught  with  the  gong  under  his 

207 


208    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

coat  like  a  mischievous  schoolboy,  Lincoln  was  stopped 
by  Davis  with  the  newspaper.  Jesse  W.  Weik  describes 
the  scene  thus : 

"  'Great  business  this/  chuckled  Davis,  'for  a  man 
who  aspires  to  be  Vice-President  of  the  United  States/ 

"Lincoln  only  smiled.  'Davis  and  1/  declared  Whit- 
ney, 'were  greatly  excited,  but  Lincoln  was  listless  and 
indifferent.  His  only  response  was :  "Surely  it  ain't 
me !  There's  another  great  man  named  Lincoln  down 
in  Massachusetts.     I  reckon  it's  him."  '  " 

Lincoln,  of  course,  was  not  nominated,  his  party  lost 
the  Presidential  election  to  the  Democrats  in  favor  of 
Buchanan  and  Breckenridge  and  so  the  years  1856  and 
1857  passed.  Then  came  the  clash  of  the  great  debates 
which  were  of  such  import  and  involved  two  men  of 
such  might  that  they  have  been  termed  "The  Battles 
of  the  Giants." 

In  1858  our  old  acquaintance  and  Lincoln's  long- 
standing rival,  Stephen  A.  Douglas,  finished  his  Wash- 
ington term  as  Senator  and  it  fell  to  Illinois  to  elect 
another  for  this  place.  Douglas,  on  the  Democratic 
ticket,  ran  again  and  on  the  16th  of  June  by  unanimous 
vote  Abraham  Lincoln  was  nominated  as  "the  first  and 
only  choice  of  the  Republicans  of  Illinois  for  U.  S. 
Senator  as  the  successor  of  Stephen  A.  Douglas."  This 
was  not  merely  a  state  issue — the  entire  country 
focussed  upon  the  outcome  because  Lincoln  and  Doug- 
las personified  the  two  sides  of  that  tremendous  prob- 
lem which  now  threatened  the  Union.  Lincoln  was 
fighting  for  the  restoration  of  the  Missouri  Compro- 
mise and  all  that  it  involved  for  the  nation's  future; 
Douglas  blocked  him  with  its  Repeal  and  all  that  im- 


GREAT  LINCOLN-DOUGLAS  DEBATES     209 

plied.  The  election  of  either  one  of  these  men  as 
Senator  was  no  little  local  issue. 

Now  Douglas,  a  short  man  of  great  accomplishment, 
had  often  been  called  'The  Little  Giant."  A  political 
friend  of  Lincoln's  when  asked,  "Who  is  this  man  run- 
ning against  Senator  Douglas?"  answered,  "Well,  we 
have  two  giants  in  Illinois  instead  of  one;  Douglas  is 
the  little  one  you  all  know.    Lincoln  is  the  big  one." 

The  "big  giant"  and  the  "little  one"  now  began  their 
battle. 

Lincoln  opened  his  campaign  with  a  declaration  that 
was  startlingly  radical  to  the  country  then — "the  Union 
cannot  permanently  endure  half  slave,  half  free !" 

This  idea  electrified  the  country.  There  had,  of 
course,  been  talk  of  "secession,"  that  is,  that  the  slave 
states  might  sever  their  connection  with  the  union,  but 
the  idea  that  some  compromise  would  not  eventually 
succeed  in  holding  them  together  so  that  the  country 
could  continue  "half  slave,  half  free,"  had  not  yet  at- 
tained a  serious  general  acceptance. 

Lincoln  went  on : 

"  'A  house  divided  against  itself  cannot  stand/  I 
believe  the  government  cannot  permanently  endure  half 
slave,  half  free.  I  do  not  expect  the  union  to  be  dis- 
solved— I  do  not  expect  the  house  to  fall — but  I  do 
expect  that  it  will  cease  to  be  divided.  It  will  become 
all  one  thing  or  all  the  other!" 

Speaking  of  the  crucial  Kansas-Nebraska  bill,  he 
claimed  that  its  theory  of  "Squatter  Sovereignty," 
"otherwise  called  the  'sacred  right  of  self-government/ 
.  .  .  (though  expressive  of  the  only  rightful  basis  of 
any  government)  was  so  perverted  in  the  attempted  use 


210    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

of  it  as  to  amount  to  just  this :  That  if  any  man  choose 
to  enslave  another,  no  third  man  shall  be  allowed  to 
object/' 

These  brief  quotations  give  Lincoln's  whole  attitude 
in  a  nutshell. 

Naturally  Douglas  at  once  opened  fire  for  the  op- 
position. 

He  began  his  canvass  with  a  speech  in  Chicago  in 
which  he  patronizingly  referred  to  Lincoln  as  "a  kind, 
amiable,  intelligent  gentleman/'  Lincoln  himself  was 
present  at  this  meeting,  and  several  seeing  him  there 
began  to  shout,  "Speech!  Speech!"  Lincoln  rose  and 
announced  that  he  would  speak  in  reply  in  the  same 
place  the  next  night.  Most  of  the  audience  returned 
but  Douglas  contemptuously  absented  himself  and  went 
to  the  theater  instead. 

Douglas  next  spoke  at  Bloomington,  the  scene  of 
Lincoln's  famous  "Lost  Speech."  Lincoln  again  was 
present  and  a  few  hours  later  rendered  a  vigorous  re- 
buttal to  Douglas'  speech. 

This  kept  up,  meeting  after  meeting :  Douglas  speak- 
ing, Lincoln  in  the  audience,  arms  folded,  listening — 
preparing  to  answer  promptly.  Judge  Douglas  grew  ] 
furious  at  this  method  of  Lincoln's  for  confusing  him,  i 
and,  as  Lincoln  termed  it,  being  "put  out  about  it"  he 
gave  vent  to  his  feelings  in  some  pretty  harsh  words, 
to  which  Lincoln  referred  in  his  next  address  in  this 
way: 

"  T  am  informed  that  my  distinguished  friend  yes- 
terday became  a  little  excited,  nervous  (?)  perhaps,  and 
he  said  something  about  fighting,  as  though  looking  to 
a  personal  encounter  between  himself  and  me.     Did 


GREAT  LINCOLN-DOUGLAS  DEBATES    211 

anybody  in  this  audience  hear  him  use  such  language  ?' 
('Yes,  yes/)  'I  am  informed  further  that  somebody 
in  his  audience,  rather  more  excited  or  nervous  than 
himself,  took  off  his  coat  and  offered  to  take  the  job 
off  Judge  Douglas's  hands  and  fight  Lincoln  himself. 
Did  anybody  here  witness  that  warlike  proceeding  ?' 
(Laughter  and  cries  of  'Yes !')  'Well,  I  merely  desire 
to  say  that  I  shall  fight  neither  Judge  Douglas  nor  his 
second.  I  shall  not  do  this  for  two  reasons,  which  I 
will  explain.  In  the  first  place,  a  fight  would  prove 
nothing  which  is  in  issue  in  this  election.  It  might 
establish  that  Judge  Douglas  is  a  more  muscular  man 
than  myself  or  it  might  show  that  I  am  a  more  muscu- 
lar man  than  Judge  Douglas.  But  this  subject  is  not 
referred  to  in  the  Cincinnati  platform,  nor  in  either  of 
the  Springfield  platforms.  Neither  result  would  prove 
him  right  or  me  wrong.  And  so  of  the  gentleman  who 
offered  to  do  his  fighting  for  him.  If  my  fighting 
Judge  Douglas  would  not  prove  anything,  it  would  cer- 
tainly prove  nothing  for  me  to  fight  his  bottle-holder. 

"  'My  second  reason  for  not  having  a  personal  en- 
counter with  Judge  Douglas  is  that  I  don't  believe  he 
wants  it  himself.  He  and  I  are  about  the  best  friends 
in  the  world,  and  when  we  get  together  he  would  no 
more  think  of  fighting  me  than  of  fighting  his  wife. 
■Therefore,  when  the  Judge  talked  about  fighting  he 
was  not  giving  vent  to  any  ill-feeling  of  his  own,  but 
was  merely  trying  to  excite— well,  let  us  say  en- 
thusiasm against  me  on  the  part  of  his  audience.  And, 
as  I  find  he  was  tolerably  successful  in  this,  we  will 
call  it  quits !'  " 

The  speech-and-answer  battle  continued,  however, 


212    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

until  it  resulted  in  Lincoln's  closing  in  upon  Douglas 
and  challenging  him  point-blank  to  debate. 

When  Douglas  received  this  challenge  he  confided  to 
some  friends: 

"I  do  not  feel,  between  you  and  me,  that  I  want  to 
go  into  this  debate.  The  whole  country  knows  me  and 
has  me  measured.  Lincoln,  as  regards  myself,  is  com- 
paratively unknown  and  if  he  gets  the  best  of  this 
debate — and  I  want  to  say  he  is  the  ablest  man  the 
Republicans  have  got — I  shall  lose  everything  and  Lin- 
coln will  gain  everything.  Should  I  win, — I  shall  gain 
but  little.  I  do  not  want  to  go  into  this  debate  with 
Abe." 

The  Douglas  constituents  urged  the  candidate  on  in 
spite  of  his  unwilling  "I  shall  have  my  hands  full.  He 
is  the  strong  man  of  his  party — full  of  dry  wit,  facts, 
dates — and  the  best  stump  speaker,  with  his  droll  ways 
and  dry  jokes,  in  the  West.  He  is  as  honest  as  he  is 
shrewd  and  if  I  beat  him,  my  victory  will  be  hardly 
won." 

At  another  time  he  burst  out — 

"Of  all  the  damned  Whig  rascals  about  Springfield, 
Abe  Lincoln  is  the  ablest  and  most  honest  1" 

On  the  other  side,  Lincoln  was  unfavorably  compar- 
ing himself  with  Douglas  thus : 

"With  me  the  race  of  ambition  has  been  a  failure — 

flat  failure.  With  him  it  has  been  one  of  splendid 
success. 

"Senator  Douglas  is  of  world-wide  renown.  All  the 
anxious  politicians  of  the  party  .  .  .  have  been  looking 
upon  him  as  certainly,  at  no  distant  day,  to  be  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States.     They  have  seen  in  his 


GREAT  LINCOLN-DOUGLAS  DEBATES     213 

round,  jolly,  fruitful  face,  post-offices,  land  offices, 
marshalships  and  cabinet  appointments,  chargeships 
and  foreign  missions,  bursting  and  sprouting  out  in 
wonderful  exuberance,  ready  to  be  laid  hold  of  by  their 
greedy  hands. 

"On  the  contrary,  nobody  has  ever  expected  me  to  be 
President!  In  my  poor  lean,  lank  face  nobody  has 
ever  seen  that  any  cabbages  were  sprouting.  These  are 
disadvantages,  all  taken  together,  that  the  Republicans 
labor  under.  We  have  to  fight  this  battle  upon  prin- 
ciple and  principle  alone!3 

A  series  of  debates  between  these  men,  so  different, 
so  vigorous  and  championing  such  vital  theories  drew 
the  attention  of  the  whole  country.  There  was  no 
escape  for  Douglas,  he  had  to  accept  the  challenge 
whether  he  wanted  to  or  not. 

Seven  debates  were  arranged  to  fall  between  August 
2 1 st  and  October  15th,  1858,  in  the  following  places 
which  can  be  found  upon  what  must  now,  in  tracing 
Lincoln's  activities,  be  a  very  thumb-worn  map  of 
Illinois. 

1.  Ottawa — Aug.  21. 

2.  Freeport  (near  the  Wisconsin  border) — Aug.  27. 

3.  Jonesboro  (extreme  south  of  state) — Sept.  15. 

4.  Charleston — (150  miles  n.e.  of  Jonesboro) — 
Sept.  18. 

5.  Galesburg — Oct.  7. 

6.  Quincy — Oct.  13. 

7.  Alton — Oct.  15. 

By  finding  these  spots  on  the  map  it  can  be  realized 
how  thoroughly  the  whole  state  was  to  be  "stumped." 


214    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

To  get  from  point  to  point  for  these  debates  in- 
volved the  most  tedious  traveling,  for  railroad  service 
was  faulty  and  the  journey  had  to  be  completed  often 
by  getting  out  of  a  train  and  taking  some  little  river 
steamer,  and  then  driving  from  the  landing  out  across 
the  prairie  with  horse  and  buggy. 

Henry  C.  Whitney  accompanied  Lincoln  on  these 
trips  as  a  sort  of  aide.  Travel  was  extremely  difficult 
for  even  if  Lincoln  managed  to  get  a  chair,  so  many 
small  politicians  would  intrude  on  him  that  he  could 
scarcely  catch  a  moment's  sleep.  He  would  be  worn 
out  by  the  time  he  had  to  meet  Douglas. 

Once  there  was  an  empty  car  hitched  to  the  end 
of  the  train  and  Mr.  Whitney  tried  to  get  the  conductor 
to  unlock  it  so  that  Lincoln  could  get  a  little  rest. 
Although  both  men  were  attorneys  for  the  road,  the 
conductor  refused.  Whitney  got  him  in  by  stratagem 
later.  While  this  was  going  on  the  vice-president  of 
the  road,  the  Illinois  Central,  was  taking  Douglas 
around  in  a  special  car! 

In  this  way  Douglas  was  generally  whirled  trium- 
phantly past  Lincoln  who  had  to  sit  side-tracked  in  a 
crowded  local  or  even  sometimes  in  a  freight  car,  while 
the  elegant  "special''  sped  by,  banners  flying,  with  all  ] 
the  pomp  of  "right  of  way."  One  day,  when  Lincoln  j 
leaned  out  of  the  caboose  window  of  a  side-tracked 
freight  train  and  watched  the  gayly  decorated  "Douglas 
Special"  whiz  by,  he  laughed  good  humoredly  and  re- 
marked, "The  gentleman  in  that  car  evidently  smelled 
no  royalty  in  our  carriage !" 

The  contrast  between  the  entrance  of  Douglas  and 
Lincoln  to  the  actual  meetings  was  as  sharp  as  between 


GREAT  LINCOLN-DOUGLAS  DEBATES    215 

their  modes  of  travel.  Along  the  way  brass  bands  met 
Douglas  as  he  approached  in  his  decorated  coach,  gay 
with  banners  and  pennants.  He  was  greeted  with  a 
gun  salute  and  parade.  Lincoln,  on  the  other  hand, 
despised  show  and  racket  and  always  protested  against 
these  "fizzlegigs  and  fireworks."  He  kicked,  struggled 
and  cried,  "Don't,  boys !  Quit !  Put  me  down !"  when 
enthusiasts  attempted  to  hoist  him  to  their  shoulders 
and  march  him  up  to  the  platform. 

Sometimes  he  rode  to  meeting  on  horseback;  some- 
times a  welcoming  committee  of  Republicans,  in  an 
effort  to  contrast  their  methods  with  the  grandeur  of 
Douglas,  would  drive  Lincoln  after  the  festive  Douglas 
parade  in  a  plain  bare  hay  cart.  The  assemblages  be- 
fore which  Lincoln  and  Douglas  spoke  were  surpris- 
ingly enormous. 

Crowds  of  twenty  thousand  gathered  at  times,  the 
people  traveling  so  as  to  get  there  the  night  before. 
All  manner  of  fakirs  followed  these  crowds  and  gath- 
ered on  the  outskirts  selling  pain-killers,  and  lemon- 
ade, while  jugglers  gave  side-shows,  and  beggars 
pushed  in  and  out,  all  to  the  tune  of  "Hail,  Columbia, 
Happy  Land,"  or  some  other  rousing  tune  pounded 
out  by  the  local  brass  band. 

The  opening  debate,  before  the  throngs  at  Ottawa, 
began  at  half-past  two  in  the  afternoon.  In  A  Battle 
of  the  Giants,  Frederick  Trevor  Hill  describes  this  pre- 
liminary clash  of  the  champions,  and  tells  how  "a  short, 
stout,  but  powerfully  built  man  forced  his  way  through 
the  crowd,  and  stepping  to  the  edge  of  the  platform, 
bowed  gracefully  to  the  cheering  multitudes.  There 
were  confidence  and  complete  self-possession  in  his 


216    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

every  movement — confidence  and  determination  in  the 
glance  he  cast  at  his  awkward  rival." 

Douglas  then  proceeded  with  a  speech  so  captivating 
and  so  enthusiastically  received  that  Lincoln's  sup- 
porters felt  their  spirits  droop. 

Lincoln  then  rose,  and  tossing  his  rumpled  linen 
duster  across  the  arm  of  a  bystander  remarked,  "Hold 
my  coat  while  I  stone  Stephen !" 

He  stepped  to  the  platform  and  presented  a  dismal 
contrast  to  the  trig  figure  of  the  Judge.  Mr.  Hill  de- 
scribes him  in  turn :  "His  long  lank  figure  was  clothed 
in  garments  as  rusty  and  ill-fitting  as  the  Judge's  were 
fresh  and  well-made.  His  coarse  black  hair  was 
disheveled,  his  sad  anxious  face  displayed  no  confi- 
dence, his  posture  was  an  ungainly  stoop." 

The  throngs  who  edged  closer  in  anticipation  of 
Lincoln's  well-known  propensity  for  funny  stories  and 
rippling  anecdotes  were  disappointed.  He  did  not  feel 
funny — he  was  swept  away  by  his  own  earnestness  and 
within  a  few  moments  carried  the  audience  soberly  with 
him.  This  debate,  as  he  had  said,  he  argued  "on  prin- 
ciple and  on  principle  alone." 

It  was  here  at  Ottawa  that  Douglas  began  his  own 
undoing  by  putting  seven  questions  to  Lincoln  to  an- 
swer. Lincoln  retaliated  by  putting  four  questions  to 
Douglas  at  the  next  meeting  in  Freeport.  One  of  these 
questions  was  a  trap  into  which  Douglas  fell.  It 
tripped  Douglas  into  an  unfortunate  answer  regarding 
the  "Dred  Scott  Decision"  and  in  order  to  understand 
this  we  must  stop  a  minute  and  see  what  this  decision 
was. 

Dred  Scott  was  a  slave  belonging  to  a  Missouri  army 


GREAT  LINCOLN-DOUGLAS  DEBATES     217 

surgeon,  one  Dr.  Emerson,  who  was  stationed  for  a 
time  in  the  free  state  of  Illinois  and  later  at  Fort 
Snelling  in  that  territory  north  of  the  fateful  360  30' 
which  later  became  Minnesota.  After  two  years  on 
free  soil  the  doctor  returned  with  his  slaves  to  P  is- 
souri  and  sold  Scott.  Thereupon  Dred  Scott  sue 
freedom  on  the  ground  that  he  had  been  illegal!. 
on  territory  made  free  by  the  Missouri  Compro, 
He  won  his  case  in  the  first  trial  but  it  was  appealed 
and  carried  on  and  on  from  court  to  court  until  at  last 
it  reached  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States  and 
here  its  final  decision  became  momentous.  In  the 
Supreme  Court,  before  nine  justices,  five  of  whom  rep- 
resented slave  states,  the  decision  was  finally  announced 
by  Chief  Justice  Taney  as  against  Scott.  He  was  de- 
clared still  a  slave.  From  that  point  on  the  personal 
fate  of  Dred  Scott  himself  is  of  little  interest.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  he  and  his  family  were  afterwards  all 
set  free  by  their  owner.  The  true  significance  of 
Court's  decision  was  this:  It  declared  the  Missouri 
Compromise  null  and  void,  stating  that  Congress  had 
no  power  to  deny  slavery  in  any  territory. 

The  situation  now  stood  like  this : 

The  Missouri  Compromise  had  declared  the  territory 
north  of  360  30'  free. 

The  Kansas-Nebraska  bill  revoked  this  and  left  the 
slavery  question  open  for  settlers  there  to  decide  for 
themselves. 

The  Dred  Scott  decision  went  further  than  this,  by 
declaring  that  wherever  slavery  had  already  crept  in, 
there  it  should  forever  remain  and  Congress  had  no 
right  to  exclude  it.     In  other  words,  the  substance  of 


218    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

that  court  decision  is  embodied  in  this  terse  extract 
from  Lincoln's  first  great  debate  speech : 

"If  any  man  choose  to  enslave  another,  no  third  man 
shall  be  allowed  to  object." 

Now  the  Republican  Party  was  based  on  the  very 
principle  that  Congress  had  power  to  prohibit  slavery 
in  the  territories,  a  power  which  the  Supreme  Court 
now  denied.  The  Republicans  therefore  argued  that 
the  Supreme  Court  had  made  an  erroneous  decision  in 
the  Dred  Scott  case. 

Lincoln  now  proceeded  to  trip  up  Douglas  on  this 
very  point.     He  asked : 

"Can  the  people  of  a  United  States  Territory,  .  .  . 
against  the  wish  of  any  citizen  of  the  United  States 
exclude  slavery  from  its  limits  prior  to  the  formation 
of  a  State  Constitution?"  In  other  words,  "Can  the 
'third  man'  legally  object?" 

If  Douglas  answered  "yes"  he  would  affirm  the  Re- 
publican interpretation  of  the  Scott  decision  as 
erroneous  and  lose  the  Southern  Democratic  vote.  At 
the  same  time  he  would  please  his  Illinois  constituents 
who  denied  that  slavery  had  already  taken  root  in  the 
territories,  and  in  pleasing  them  he  would  win  the 
Senatorship  and  defeat  Lincoln  on  that  immediate 
issue. 

Seeing  this,  Lincoln's  supporters  begged  him  to 
withdraw  the  question  for  fear  Douglas  would  answer 
in  the  affirmative  and  win  the  present  campaign.  Lin- 
coln replied  that  to  get  Douglas  to  answer  affirmatively 
was  exactly  what  he  wanted.  "If  he  does  that,"  said 
Lincoln,  "he  will  never  be  President." 


A  First  National  Picture.  The  Dramatic  Life  of  Abraham  Lincoln. 

THE  FAMILY  AT  THE   WHITE  HOUSE. 


GREAT  LINCOLN-DOUGLAS  DEBATES    219 

"Yes,  but  he  may  be  Senator,"  his  friends  objected. 

"Perhaps,"   said  Lincoln,   "but   I  am   after  larger 
game:  the  battle  of  i860  is  worth  a  hundred  of  this." 

It  is  thus  seen  that  Lincoln  now  hoped  definitely  for 
the  Presidency. 

Caught  in  a  thunderstorm,  one  night  during  this  cam- 
paign, prior  to  the  debates,  Lincoln  had  sought  refuge 
in  an  empty  freight  where  his  friend  Henry  Villard 
was  also  taking  shelter.  In  the  talk  that  followed  dur- 
ing the  storm  Mr.  Villard  quotes  Lincoln  as  confiding 
that  his  highest  political  ambition  in  his  days  as  country 
store  clerk  had  been  to  reach  the  State  Legislature. 
"  'Since  then/  he  said  laughingly,  'I  have  grown  some, 
but  my  friends  got  me  into  this  business !  I  did  not 
consider  myself  qualified  for  the  United  States  Senate 
and  it  took  me  a  long  time  to  persuade  myself  that  I 
was.  Now  to  be  sure  I  am  convinced  that  I  am  good 
enough  for  it,  but  in  spite  of  all  I  am  saying  to  myself 
every  day,  "It's  too  big  a  thing  for  you.  You  will 
never  get  it."  Mary  insists  however  that  I  am  going 
to  be  Senator  and  President  of  the  United  States  too!' 
These  last  words  he  followed  with  a  roar  of  laughter, 
with  his  arms  around  his  knees,  shaking  all  over  at  his 
wife's  ambition." 

This  is  how  Lincoln  felt  before  the  debates.  But  by 
the  time  he  reached  the  second  debate  it  is  plain  to  be 
seen  that  he  had  outgrown  his  earlier  fears  and  now 
accepted  his  wife's  prophecy.  Indeed,  it  would  be  inter- 
esting to  have  insight  into  Mary  Todd  Lincoln's  sensa- 
tions during  this  combat  between  her  old  rivals. 

Lincoln,  then,  was  hoping  to  trap  Douglas  by  his 


220    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

question,  into  losing  the  future  Presidency,  though  gain 
the  present  Senatorship  he  might.  The  trap  proved 
successful.    Douglas  made  answer : 

"It  matters  not  what  way  the  Supreme  Court  may 
hereafter  decide  as  to  abstract  questions  as  to  whether 
slavery  may  or  may  not  go  into  a  Territory  under  the 
Constitution.  The  people  have  the  lawful  means  to 
introduce  or  exclude  it  as  they  please." 

This  was  an  adroit  piece  of  sophism  which  appears 
on  the  face  of  it  to  appease  either  party,  but  virtually 
it  gave  the  Northern  interpretation,  offended  the  South, 
and  cost  him  the  slave  holders'*  support  thereafter.  In 
doing  this,  however,  he  indorsed  the  sentiments  of  the 
Illinois  Free  State  Democrats  who. supported  the  Aboli- 
tion attitude  toward  extension  of  slavery  into  the  terri- 
tories. 

In  another  moment  Douglas  realized  his  slip  and 
struggled  desperately  to  make  up  for  his  tactical 
blunder.  He  found  that  he  had  practically  denied  the 
Dred  Scott  decision  and  said,  "Yes,  a  third  man  may 
object."  Confused  and  angry  at  being  thus  caught, 
Douglas  was  again  "put  out"  and  resorted  to  bitter 
personal  attacks  on  Lincoln,  not  hesitating  to  misrepre- 
sent facts  to  Lincoln's  disadvantage.  At  the  Charles- 
ton meeting  Douglas  accused  Lincoln  of  having  voted 
in  Congress  against  appropriation  for  supplies  to  carry 
on  the  Mexican  War.  This  angered  Lincoln  who  burst 
out: 

"This  is  a  perversion  of  facts!  I  was  opposed  to 
the  policy  of  the  administration  in  declaring  war 
against  Mexico  but  when  war  was  declared  I  never 
failed  to  vote  for  the  support  of  any  proposition  look- 


GREAT  LINCOLN-DOUGLAS  DEBATES     221 

ing  to  the  comfort  of  our  poor  fellows  who  were  main- 
taining the  dignity  of  our  flag  in  a  war  that  I  thought 
unnecessary  and  unjust."  Now  there  was  seated  on 
the  platform  behind  the  debaters,  Mr.  O.  B.  Ficklin,  a 
Douglas  supporter  who  happened  to  have  served  with 
Lincoln  in  Congress  at  the  time  of  the  Mexican  War 
and  Lincoln  now  excitedly  seized  Ficklin  by  the  collar 
and  lifted  him  forward,  unceremoniously,  shouting : 

"Fellow  citizens,  here  is  Ficklin  who  was  at  that  time 
in  Congress  with  me  and"  (shaking  Ficklin  emphati- 
cally by  the  neck)  "he  knows  it  is  a  lie!" 

After  the  meeting,  Ficklin,  who  was  a  good  friend  of 
Lincoln's,  rubbed  his  neck,  laughing,  and  said,  "Abe, 
you  nearly  shook  all  the  Democracy  out  of  me  to-day !" 

From  then  on,  fireworks  sputtered  and  crackled  be- 
tween the  debaters.  At  the  next  debate,  in  Galesburg, 
Douglas  indulged  in  a  rabid  attack  on  Lincoln's  career, 
saying  savagely  that  Lincoln  had  tried  everything  and 
failed  at  everything.  He  said  that  Lincoln  had  tried 
farming  and  failed;  tried  school  teaching  and  failed; 
tried  military  life  and  failed;  tried  saloon  keeping  and 
failed;  tried  law  and  failed,  and  now  he  was  trying 
politics  and  making  the  biggest  failure  of  all.  This 
kind  of  thing  was  exactly  what  Lincoln  knew  well  how 
to  handle  with  ridicule.  Instead  of  allowing  his  anger 
to  become  noticeable,  he  laughed  outright,  and  stepping 
forward  he  convulsed  the  audience  by  saying  that  all 
Judge  Douglas's  remarks  were  true  but  "there  is  just 
one  thing  he  forgot  to  tell  you.  He  says  that  I  sold 
liquor  over  a  counter.  He  forgot  to  tell  you  that  while 
I  was  on  one  side  of  the  counter,  he  was  on  the  other!" 
This  reference  to  the  Judge's  too  well-known  weakness 


222    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

sent  the  audience  into  such  shouts  and  hoots  and  howls 
that  it  was  some  time  before  order  could  be  restored. 

Douglas  was  no  match  for  Lincoln's  quick  drollery, 
once  Lincoln  was  roused  and  Douglas  had  roused  him 
now.  In  retort  to  another  sally  of  his  rival's  Lincoln 
made  answer:  "Fellow-citizens,  my  friend,  Judge 
Douglas,  made  the  startling  announcement  to-day  that 
the  Whigs  are  all  dead.  If  that  be  so,  fellow-citizens, 
you  will  now  experience  the  novelty  of  hearing  a  speech 
from  a  dead  man;  and  I  suppose  you  might  properly 
say  in  the  language  of  the  old  hymn : 

"  'Hark !  from  the  tombs  a  doleful  sound !'  " 

So  the  lively  struggle  continued. 

The  sixth  debate  took  place  at  Quincy.  Lincoln 
traveled  there  in  quiet,  modest  style,  and  even  pro- 
tested against  riding  to  his  destination  from  the  station. 
"I'd  rather  foot  it  to  Browning's,"  he  asserted,  for  he 
was  hoping  to  pass  a  calm  night  with  this  old  friend. 

Douglas  on  the  contrary  always  was  accompanied  by 
a  retinue  of  servants,  a  secretary,  and  many  rather 
loud  friends,  in  a  special  train  hung  with  banners  and 
bunting. 

But  there  was  no  quiet  night  for  Lincoln,  as  the 
country  people  from  miles  around  were  already  gath- 
ering for  the  debate,  and  the  town  was  full  of  Demo- 
crats and  Republicans,  cheering  and  singing  and  argu- 
ing ;  and  all  the  brass  bands  in  the  county  were  tooting 
and  blaring  till  the  small  hours. 

A  long  pine-board  platform  had  been  set  up  in  the 
public  square,  and  the  next  afternoon  there  were  sev- 
eral thousand  people  gathered  in  front  of  it  for  the 
debate.     They  were   a   good-natured   crowd   on   the 


GREAT  LINCOLN-DOUGLAS  DEBATES    223 

whole,  but  the  enthusiasm  of  their  cheers  when  their 
respective  champions  arrived  proved  how  intensely  in- 
terested they  were. 

Two  more  contrasting  types  have  seldom  faced  each 
other  on  the  same  platform.  Standing  beside  the  tall, 
spare  frame  of  Lincoln,  Douglas  appeared  almost  a 
dwarf,  short  and  thick-set.  There  was  a  certain  pug- 
naciousness  and  obstinacy  about  him  that  showed  great 
strength  and  staying  power,  and  in  spite  of  a  slight 
puffiness  about  his  eyes,  the  result  of  recent  drinking 
with  his  friends,  he  was  a  formidable  opponent. 

During  Lincoln's  speech  he  sat  smiling  contemptu- 
ously. When  he  rose,  it  was  with  an  air  of  sneering 
superiority.  His  voice  was  deep  and  powerful  and 
he  fairly  thundered  out  his  violent  invectives  against 
his  rival,  shaking  his  fists,  and  stamping  his  feet.  Lin- 
coln's friends  were  angered  by  his  insolent  and  over- 
bearing tone,  but  his  adherents  applauded  lustily  at  his 
conclusion. 

Then  Lincoln  gave  his  closing  speech  of  half  an 
hour,  in  which  he  showed  his  great  tact  in  handling  a 
ticklish  situation.  His  tone  was  so  good-humored,  his 
witty  illustrations  so  pat  and  to  the  point,  his  argu- 
ments so  piercing  and  quick,  that  the  whole  meeting, 
opponents  and  all,  burst  into  cheers  of  delight  again  and 
again.  The  scowl  on  the  face  of  Douglas  grew  darker 
and  darker,  and  the  triumph  of  the  day  went  to 
Lincoln. 

After  these  encounters,  Lincoln,  the  country  man  and 
one-time  "barefoot  boy,"  liked  to  relax  in  his  own  old- 
fashioned  way.  Back  in  his  own  hotel  room  Lincoln 
would  stretch  out  with  his  big  shoes  kicked  off,  remark- 


224    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

ing,  "I  like  to  give  my  feet  a  chance  to  breathe." 
Douglas,  on  the  other  hand,  sought  relaxation  in  the 
whiskey  flask. 

Thoroughly  tired  out  at  last,  both  men  locked  horns 
in  the  seventh  and  final  encounter  at  Alton  in  the  middle 
of  crisp  October.  Alton,  by  the  way,  was  the  spot 
where  twenty-one  years  before  the  Rev.  E.  P.  Lovejoy 
of  St.  Louis,  editor  of  an  anti-slavery  paper,  had  been 
murdered  by  a  pro-slavery  mob. 

Here  Lincoln  made  his  last  stand  of  the  campaign 
with  these  forceful  words  in  behalf  of  the  principle  for 
which  the  minister  had  died. 

"Is  slavery  wrong  ?  That  is  the  real  issue.  That  is 
the  issue  that  will  continue  in  this  country  when  these 
poor  tongues  of  Judge  Douglas  and  myself  shall  be 
silent.  It  is  the  eternal  struggle  between  these  two 
principles — right  and  wrong — throughout  the  world. 
They  are  two  principles  that  have  stood  face  to  face 
from  the  beginning  of  time  and  will  ever  continue  to 
struggle.  The  one  is  the  common  right  of  humanity, 
and  the  other  the  divine  right  of  kings.  It  is  the  same 
principle  in  whatever  shape  it  develops  itself.  It  is  the 
same  spirit  that  says : 

"  'You  work  and  toil  and  earn  bread  and  I'll  eat 

it.  .  .  ; 

"Has  anything  ever  threatened  the  existence  of  the 
Union  save  and  except  this  very  institution  of  slavery? 
What  is  it  that  we  hold  most  dear  among  us  ?  Our  own 
liberty  and  prosperity.  What  has  ever  threatened  our 
liberty  and  prosperity  except  this  institution  of  slavery? 
If  this  is  true  how  do  you  propose  to  improve  things 


GREAT  LINCOLN-DOUGLAS  DEBATES     225 

by  enlarging  slavery  ?  By  spreading  it  out  and  making 
it  bigger  ?  That  is  no  proper  way  of  treating  what  you 
regard  as  wrong  I" 

The  campaign  was  over  and  its  immediate  result  was 
that  Douglas  won  the  election  to  the  Senate.  Lincoln's 
disappointment  he  expressed  characteristically  in  the 
remark  that  he  felt  'like  the  boy  who  stumped  his  toe — 
'it  hurt  too  bad  to  laugh  and  he  was  too  big  to  cry!' " 

The  outcome  meant  more  of  a  loss  to  Lincoln's  per- 
sonal finances  than  to  his  future  political  prospects 
however.  He  bore  the  brunt  of  campaign  expenses  out 
of  his  own  pocket,  and  as  he  ruefully  expressed  it,  there 
was  "no  bar'l  of  money''  in  it  for  him.  He  had  been 
months  out  of  business,  and  as  he  wrote  to  the  Repub- 
lican State  Chairman : 

"I  have  been  on  expense  so  long  without  earning 
anything  that  I  am  absolutely  without  money  now  even 
for  household  expenses." 

Here  Mary  Lincoln's  loyal  support  of  her  husband 
can  very  well  be  appreciated,  for  few  things  are  more 
trying  to  ambition  than  lack  of  funds  "for  even  house- 
hold expenses." 

Lincoln's  attitude  had  been  steadfast  from  first  to 
last.    He  had  said  in  July : 

"I  do  not  claim,  gentlemen,  to  be  unselfish.  I  do 
not  pretend  that  I  would  not  like  to  go  to  the  United 
States  Senate.  I  make  no  such  hypocritical  pretense; 
but  I  do  say  to  you  that  in  this  mighty  issue  it  is 
nothing  to  you,  nothing  to  the  mass  of  the  people  of 
this  nation,  whether  or  not  Judge  Douglas  or  myself 
shall  ever  be  heard  of  after  this  night.     It  may  be  a 


226    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

trifle  to  either  of  us,  but  in  connection  with  this  mighty- 
question,  upon  which  hangs  the  destinies  of  the  nation, 
it  is  absolutely  nothing." 

After  the  election  was  all  over  in  November  he 
wrote : 

"I  am  glad  I  made  the  late  race.  It  gave  me  a  hear- 
ing on  the  great  and  durable  question  of  the  age  which 
I  would  have  had  in  no  other  way ;  and  though  I  now 
sink  out  of  view  and  shall  be  forgotten,  /  believe  I  have 
made  some  marks  which  shall  tell  for  the  cause  of 
civil  liberty  long  after  I  am  gone" 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

NOMINATED   FOR   PRESIDENCY 

After  the  great  debates  it  was  only  natural  that 
Lincoln  was  called  upon  to  speak  in  various  states,  and 
he  was  now  invited  by  Republicans  to  address  audiences 
in  the  East  as  well  as  in  his  more  familiar  West.  Lin- 
coln^ national  popularity  was  obviously  growing. 

In  February,  i860,  some  young  political  enthusiasts 
in  New  York  City  wanted  a  speaker  who  could  be  de- 
pended upon  to  make  a  lecture  successful.  Lincoln  was 
recommended  and  invited.  He  accepted  and  attempted 
his  first  New  York  speech  at  Cooper  Institute.  Lin- 
coln came  promptly  to  New  York  and  his  ready  con- 
versation and  flow  of  anecdotes  soon  relieved  the  com- 
mittee of  any  anxiety  as  to  his  ability  as  a  talker.  He 
was  promptly  invited  home  with  one  hospitable  com- 
mitteeman, but  refused  on  the  ground  that  he  thought 
he  had  better  stay  quietly  in  his  modest  hotel  room 
where  he  would  "have  a  chance  to  think."  He  said 
he  was  afraid  he  had  made  a  mistake  after  all  in  accept- 
ing the  New  York  invitation  and  began  to  doubt  his 
powers  to  make  the  city  speech  a  success. 

"I  shall  have  to  devote  my  whole  time  to  it  or  I 
fear  I  shall  fail,"  he  said,  "and  in  that  case  I  should 
feel  very  sorry  for  the  young  men  who  have  so  kindly 
called  me." 

It  is  most  satisfactory  to  let  Russell  H.  Conwell  who 

227 


228    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

was  present  at  this  speech  describe  the  event  in  his  own 
words : 

"We  went  to  Cooper  Institute  and  there  was  a  crowd, 
as  there  always  was  at  Beecher's  church.  We  finally 
got  on  the  stairway  and  far  in  the  rear  of  the  great 
crowd.  My  brother  stood  on  the  floor  and  I  sat  on  the 
ledge  of  the  window  sill  with  my  feet  on  his  shoulders 
while  I  told  him  down  there  what  was  going  on  over 
yonder.  The  first  man  who  came  on  the  platform  and 
presided  was  William  Cullen  Bryant,  our  dear  old 
neighbor.  ...  He  took  his  seat  on  the  stage,  the  right 
of  which  was  left  vacant  for  some  one  yet  to  come. 
Next  came  a  very  heavy  man  but  immediately  follow- 
ing him  a  tall,  lean  man. 

"Mr.  Bryant  arose  and  went  toward  him  bowing  and 
smiling.  He  was  an  awkward  specimen  of  a  man  and 
all  about  me  people  were  asking,  'Who  is  that?'  But 
no  one  seemed  to  know.  I  asked  a  gentleman  who  that 
man  was  but  he  said  he  didn't  know.  He  was  an  awk- 
ward specimen  indeed :  one  of  the  legs  of  his  trousers 
was  up  about  two  inches  above  his  shoe ;  his  hair  was 
disheveled  and  stuck  out  like  a  rooster's  feathers,  his 
coat  was  altogether  too  large  for  him  in  the  back ;  his  j 
arms  much  longer  than  his  sleeves,  and  with  his  legs  | 
twisted  around  the  rungs  of  the  chair  he  was  the  pic- 
ture of  embarrassment. 

"When  Mr.  Bryant  arose  to  introduce  the  speaker 
of  the  evening  he  was  known  seemingly  to  few  in 
that  great  hall.    Mr.  Bryant  said : 

"  'Gentlemen  of  New  York,  it  is  great  honor  that  is 
conferred  upon  me  to-night,  for  I  can  introduce  you  to 
the  next  President  of  the  United  States,  Abraham  Lin-; 


NOMINATED  FOR  PRESIDENCY        229 

coin.'  Then  through  that  audience  flew  the  query  as 
to  who  Abraham  Lincoln  was.  There  was  but  weak 
applause. 

"Mr.  Lincoln  had  in  his  hand  a  manuscript.  He  had 
written  it  with  great  care  and  exactness,  and  the  speech 
which  you  read  in  his  biography  is  the  one  that  he 
wrote,  not  the  one  that  he  delivered,  as  I  recall  it. 

"He  had  read  three  pages  and  had  gone  on  to  the 
fourth  when  he  lost  his  place  and  began  to  tremble 
and  stammer.  He  then  turned  it  over  two  or  three 
times,  threw  the  manuscript  upon  the  table,  and,  as  they 
say  in  the  West,  'let  himself  go.' 

"Now  the  stammering  man  who  had  created  only 
silent  derision  up  to  that  point,  suddenly  flashed  out 
into  an  angel  of  oratory  and  the  awkward  arms  and 
disheveled  hair  were  lost  sight  of  entirely  in  the  won- 
derful beauty  and  lofty  inspiration  of  that  magnificent 
address.  The  great  audience  immediately  began  to 
follow  his  thought  and  when  he  uttered  that  quotation 
from  Frederick  Douglass  (the  colored  orator)  : 

'  Tt  is  written  in  the  sky  of  America  that  the  slaves 
shall  be  some  day  free/  he  had  settled  the  question 
that  he  was  to  be  the  next  President  of  the  United 
States.  The  applause  was  so  great  that  the  building 
trembled  and  I  felt  the  windows  shake  behind  me." 

This  famous  speech  of  Lincoln's  had  for  its  subject 
iisagreement  with  Stephen  A.  Douglas's  statement 
that  the  founders  of  the  Constitution  forbade  Federal 
:ontrol  of  slavery  in  Territories. 

During  his  discourse  Lincoln  made  clear  his  attitude 
toward  John  Brown  (whose  "body  lies  a-moldering  in 
the   grave")— the   mistaken   individual   who   derived 


230    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

much  undeserved  sympathy  and  fame.  It  is  interest- 
ing, since  his  name  remains  immortal  in  the  song,  to 
pause  a  moment  to  examine  John  Brown's  acts  and 
learn  Lincoln's  attitude  toward  them. 

The  kindest  thing  that  can  be  said  about  John  Brown 
is  that  he  was  an  unbalanced  religious  fanatic.  Brown 
had  come  from  the  East  to  join  his  sons  who  were 
early  settlers  in  "Bleeding  Kansas."  His  fanaticism 
included  an  obsession  to  make  Kansas  a  free  state,  and 
he  believed  that  the  only  way  to  do  this  was  to  set 
about  killing  slave  owners,  because  as  he  said :  "With- 
out shedding  of  blood  there  is  no  remission  of  sins." 
In  the  general  lawlessness  that  made  Kansas  "bleed" 
some  Free-staters  had  been  killed.  This  unsettled 
Brown's  temper.  He  organized  a  night  raid  with  his 
sons  and  some  other  easily  influenced  lawless  followers, 
and  started  on  a  bloody  round.  From  one  farmhouse 
to  another  they  went,  called  the  men  of  the  houses  to 
their  doors  and  shot  them  down.  There  was  no  at- 
tempt at  revenge  on  such  particular  men  as  had  been 
implicated  in  the  slaying  of  the  Free-staters.  The 
rioters  simply  went  to  the  home  of  any  man  known 
to  be  of  pro-slavery  interest,  and  him  they  promptly 
shot.  One  man  they  hauled  from  the  bedside  of  his 
sick  wife  and  in  spite  of  her  frantic  pleadings  they 
killed  him  in  front  of  his  house  and  marched  on  to 
the  next  farm.  Before  their  gruesome  night's  work 
was  done  six  or  seven  men  were  killed  and  left  sprawl- 
ing in  their  blood  in  their  dooryards.  Nothing  was 
done  about  it.  This  "massacre  of  Pottawatomie"  was 
all  part  of  the  reign  of  terror  in  "Bleeding  Kansas," 
wW  Nearly  two  hundred  people  were  slain  within 


NOMINATED  FOR  PRESIDENCY        231 

one  year.  This  was  in  1855.  Brown  followed  it  by 
a  raid  into  Missouri  where  he  captured  a  dozen  slaves 
whom  he  took  safely  to  Canada.  His  famous  and 
final  Harper's  Ferry  attack  took  place  in  the  spring 
of  1859,  a  year  before  Lincoln's  Cooper  Institute 
speech.  Here  he  had  plotted  an  uprising  among  slaves 
who  were  to  slay  the  whites,  for  which  purpose  he  had 
smuggled  arms  to  them. 

Nothing  more  horrible  than  rousing  a  black  insur- 
rection could  have  terrified  Virginia,  which  still  shud- 
dered at  memory  of  the  Nat  Turner  insurrection  of 
183 1.  In  this,  Nat,  a  negro,  had  incited  the  slaves  to 
slaughter  and  sixty-one  white  people  (chiefly  women 
and  little  children)  suffered  their  savagery.  There  had 
been  a  growing  sentiment  against  slavery  in  Virginia 
and  after  the  Nat  Turner  tragedy  the  Virginia  legis- 
lature seriously  considered  emancipation.  Indeed  few 
Northern  States  ever  denounced  slavery  as  Virginia 
denounced  it  then  in  a  speech  by  one  of  her  legislators, 
who  cried  out : 

'Tax  our  lands!  Vilify  our  country!  Carry  the 
sword  of  extermination  through  our  defenseless  vil- 
lages, but  spare  us,  I  implore  you — spare  us  the  curse 
of  slavery,  that  bitterest  drop  from  the  chalice  of  the 
Destroying  Angel!"  At  that  time  (1831)  the  senti- 
ment against  slavery  in  the  North  had  by  no  means 
been  so  strongly  expressed. 

For  John  Brown,  then,  to  attempt  to  stir  up  black 
men  to  what  meant  death  and  worse  for  women  and 
children  was  the  most  fatal  way  to  rouse  the  South 
against  Abolitionists.  The  slaves  themselves  showed 
better  sense  than  this  emotional  instigator.    They  did 


232    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

not  respond.  Led  on  by  the  unbalanced  and  mis- 
guided Brown,  his  tall  figure  and  flowing  white  beard 
conspicuous  at  the  head  of  a  band  of  guerrillas  and 
free  negroes,  Brown  attacked  the  small  arsenal  at 
Harper's  Ferry.  Colonel  Robert  E.  Lee,  in  command 
of  some  marines,  was  sent  to  quell  the  disturbance. 
Lee  sent  his  aide,  J.  E.  B.  Stuart  (later  famous  as  a 
Confederate  commander),  to  parley  with  Brown.  Now 
Stuart  had  been  in  Kansas  and  recognized  the  dis- 
turber with  the  exclamation,  "Why,  aren't  you  old 
Pottawatomie  Brown  of  Kansas  ?" 

The  story  of  Brown's  early  life  and  the  influences 
which  made  him  a  religious  fanatic  and  inevitably  set 
his  mind  so  strongly  against  slavery  that  he  extracted 
a  Carthaginian  oath  from  his  sons  to  devote  their 
lives  to  merciless  war  against  that  institution, — all  are 
interesting  and  extenuate  his  extremes,  but  these  are 
not  in  place  here.  He  was  captured  and  hanged  for 
treason.  He  was  of  course  denounced  on  one  hand  as 
the  vilest  villain  and  on  the  other  hand  lauded  as  a 
martyr  and  a  saint.  Emerson  likened  Brown's  death 
on  the  gallows  to  the  glory  and  sacrifice  of  the  Cross. 
Victor  Hugo  called  him  hero  and  apostle.  These  men, 
however,  lived  far  out  of  the  way  of  any  danger  of  a 
black  uprising.  As  a  matter  of  plain  fact  Brown's 
deed  was  too  violent  for  common  sense,  and  it  worked 
disadvantage  to  the  very  side  he  sought  to  aid.  The 
North  generally  refused  to  condone  his  act. 

Lincoln's  Cooper  speech  mentioned  it  in  this  way: 

"You  charge  that  we  stir  up  insurrection  among  your 

slaves.    We  deny  it ;  and  what  is  your  proof  ?    Harper's 

Ferry!    John  Brown!!    John  Brown  was  no  Republi- 


NOMINATED  FOR  PRESIDENCY        233 

can ;  and  you  have  failed  to  implicate  a  single  Repub- 
lican in  his  Harper's  Ferry  enterprise.  .  .  . 

"John  Brown's  effort  was  peculiar.  It  was  not  a 
slave  insurrection.  It  was  an  attempt  by  white  men  to 
get  up  a  revolt  among  slaves,  in  which  the  slaves  re- 
fused to  participate.  In  fact,  it  was  so  absurd  that 
the  slaves,  with  all  their  ignorance,  saw  plainly  enough 
it  could  not  succeed.  That  affair,  in  its  philosophy, 
corresponds  with  the  many  attempts  related  in  history, 
of  the  assassination  of  kings  and  emperors.  An  en- 
thusiast broods  over  the  oppression  of  a  people  till  he 
fancies  himself  commissioned  by  Heaven  to  liberate 
them.  He  ventures  the  attempt  which  ends  in  little 
else  than  his  own  execution." 

This  viewpoint  on  Brown  is  only  one  example  of  the 
well-balanced  mind  and  sound  reasoning  which  won 
Lincoln's  Cooper  Institute  audience  and  brought  pub- 
licity that  promptly  gave  it  national  importance. 

On  the  day  after  this  speech,  out  came  all  the  New 
York  dailies  with  the  speech  in  full  with  editorial 
*  comment  on  it.  Lincoln  had  taken  advantage  of  his 
trip  east  to  visit  his  son  Robert  at  Phillips  Academy 
i  in  Exeter,  N.  H.  Showered  now  with  invitations  to 
speak,  he  toured  New  England  from  one  platform  to 
another. 

As  a  result,  Lincoln's  name  began  to  be  much  talked 
|  of  all  through  New  England,  New  York,  New  Jersey, 
and  Pennsylvania  as  well  as  in  Ohio,  Michigan,  Indiana 
and  his  own  home  state. 

An  Illinois  politician,  J.  W.  Fell,  early  approached 
Lincoln  with  suggestions  of  his  nomination  for  Pres- 
idency, but  Lincoln  brushed  the  idea  aside  with : 


234    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

"What's  the  use  of  talking  of  me  for  the  Presidency 
[whilst  we  have  such  men  as  Seward,  Chase  and  others, 
who  are  so  much  better  known  to  the  people  and  whose 
names  are  so  intimately  associated  with  the  principles 
of  the  Republican  party?  Everybody  knows  them; 
nobody,  scarcely,  outside  of  Illinois  knows  me.  Be- 
sides, is  it  not,  as  a  matter  of  justice,  due  to  such  men, 
who  have  carried  this  movement  forward  to  its  present 
status,  in  spite  of  fearful  opposition,  personal  abuse, 
and  hard  names  ?    I  really  think  so." 

Fell  continued  urging,  trying  to  persuade  Lincoln 
to  write  a  brief  biography  for  campaign  use.  Lincoln 
rose  impatiently  and  "wrapping  his  old  gray  shawl 
around  his  tall  figure"  said,  "I  admit  that  I  am  am- 
bitious and  would  like  to  be  President.  I  am  not  in- 
sensible of  the  compliment  you  pay  me  and  the  interest 
you  manifest  in  the  matter,  but  there  is  no  such  good 
luck  in  store  for  me  as  the  Presidency  of  these  United 
States.  Besides,  there  is  nothing  in  my  early  history 
that  would  interest  you  or  anybody  else  and  as  Judge 
Davis  says,  'it  won't  pay/     Good  night." 

Later,  however,  Fell  did  succeed  in  getting  Lincoln 
to  write  a  sketch  of  his  life  which  was  done  in  that 
"third  person  autobiography"  to  which  we  have  already 
referred. 

The  Republican  Party,  in  spite  of  Lincoln's  protest, 
now  began  to  discuss  his  name  openly  as  a  possible 
candidate.  Lincoln  steadfastly  refused  the  nomination, 
and  the  Republican  State  Convention  opened  May  9th, 
i860,  without  his  consent  for  proposal  of  himself  as 
candidate.  He  earnestly  discouraged  any  attempt  to 
present  his  name  and  told  one  enthusiast,  "I  beg  you 


NOMINATED  FOR  PRESIDENCY        235 

not  to  give  the  matter  further  mention.  Seriously,  I 
do  not  think  I  am  fit  for  the  Presidency." 

The  Republican  Illinois  Convention  was  held  that 
year  at  Decatur  and  Lincoln  was  present  modestly  in 
the  rear  of  the  hall  as  an  inconspicuous  spectator.  He 
was  spied,  however,  by  Governor  Richard  Oglesby, 
who  presided,  and  who  rose  and  said : 

"A  distinguished  citizen  of  Illinois,  one  whom  our 
state  will  ever  delight  to  honor,  is  present  in  the  rear 
of  this  room  and  I  make  the  motion  that  he  be  invited 
to  a  seat  on  this  platform !" 

The  crowd  stirred,  whispered,  stared,  and  craned 
necks  to  see  whom  the  governor  could  mean.  After 
an  impressive  pause  to  rouse  attention  and  curiosity, 
the  Governor  added,  "Abraham  Lincoln !" 

At  this  the  crowd  broke  out  into  wild  applause,  the 
hall  roared  and  rocked  with  it,  and  a  stampede  was 
made  to  where  the  surprised  and  embarrassed  Lincoln 
sat.  They  laid  hands  on  him  and  willy-nilly  he  was 
tossed  up  to  the  shoulders  of  a  squad  of  impulsive 
admirers  and  borne  triumphantly  through  the  stamping, 
cheering  throng  and  swung  upon  the  platform  in  a  riot 
of  wildest  applause. 

A  little  later  the  adroit  Governor  sprung  a  bomb 
upon  the  audience.  He  came  forward  to  the  edge  of 
the  platform  and  announced: 

"There  is  an  old  Democrat  outside  who  has  some- 
thing to  present  to  this  Convention." 

Curious  shouts  of  "Who  is  it?  What  is  it?  Bring 
him  in !    Let's  see  it !"  broke  out  all  over  the  hall. 

A  door  directly  behind  the  front  platform  was  swung 
open  and  in  stepped  a  sturdy  old  man  carrying  across 


236    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

his  shoulders  a  couple  of  long,  rough,  fence  rails,  la- 
beled with  a  banner  reading: 

TWO  RAILS 

FROM  A  LOT  MADE  BY  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  AND 
JOHN  HANKS  IN  THE  SANGAMON  BOTTOM  IN 
THE  YEAR    183O. 

It  was  good  old  John  Hanks  himself!  He  carried 
a  pair  of  those  famous  rails  split  when  Lincoln  was 
twenty-one  and  was  settling  his  father  in  the  new  Illi- 
nois cabin  just  before  he  struck  out  from  home  for, 
himself.  If  the  audience  had  been  wild  before,  it  was 
frenzied  now.  There  were  deafening  demands  for 
"Lincoln!  Lincoln!  Lincoln!  Speech!  Speech! 
Speech !" 

Lincoln  laughed,  stood  up,  and  as  soon  as  he  could 
make  himself  heard  said  in  an  amused  tone : 

"Gentlemen,  I  suppose  you  want  to  know  something 
about  these  rails.  Well,  to  tell  the  truth,  John  Hanks 
and  I  did  make  some  rails  on  the  Sangamon  Bottom.  I 
don't  know  whether  we  made  those  rails  or  not;  fact 
is  [he  laughed]  I  don't  think  they  are  a  credit  to  their 
makers!  But  I  do  know  this:  I  made  rails  then  and 
I  think  I  could  make  better  ones  now." 

The  Illinois  convention  closed  with  the  resolution: 
"Abraham  Lincoln  is  the  first  choice  of  the  Republican 
Party  of  Illinois  for  the  Presidency.', 

The  Illinois  delegates  to  the  National  Convention 
were  forthwith  instructed  to  work  for  his  National 
nomination  and  to  that  end  "cast  the  vote  of  the  state 
as  a  unit  for  him.,, 


NOMINATED  FOR  PRESIDENCY        237 

The  National  Convention  met  in  Chicago  a  week 
later,  in  a  temporary  wooden  structure  run  up  for  the 
occasion  and  called  "The  Wigwam."  William  H. 
Seward  of  New  York  was  the  leading  candidate,  but 
Salmon  P.  Chase  of  Ohio  was  a  close  second. 

The  Republican  nomination  hinged  upon  the  vote  of 
these  states  adjoining  the  slave  border-line :  New  Jersey, 
Pennsylvania,  Indiana  and  Illinois. 

There  was  just  a  chance  that  one  of  these  border 
states  might  take  a  stand  for  states'  sovereignty  and 
Stephen  A.  Douglas.  Obviously  a  candidate  to  offset 
Douglas  was  necessary  and  Lincoln,  of  course,  supplied 
this  need. 

Now  Seward's  views  were  so  radically  anti-slavery 
that  some  of  these  border-line  states  shrank  a  little 
from  his  high-handed  declaration  "there  is  a  higher 
law  than  the  Constitution/'  as  savoring  a  little  too  much 
of  extreme  "abolitionism." 

The  balloting  began,  and  though  there  was  no  radio 
then  to  broadcast  the  frantic  roars  of  applause  for 
candidates  the  lung  power  was  no  less  vociferous  be- 
cause the  racket  was  limited  to  the  Wigwam  roof  in- 
stead of  to  ears  of  "listening-in"  voters  in  the  most 
distant  states.  As  many  a  hoarse  throat  was  split  in 
long-drawn-out  cheers  in  i860  as  to-day. 

William  H.  Seward,  of  New  York,  was  first  nomi- 
nated. His  name  was  greeted  by  a  prolonged  roar  of 
enthusiasm.  Then  came  the  name  of  Abraham  Lincoln 
of  Illinois  and  the  cheers  that  had  gone  before  were 
feeble  in  comparison.  Again  and  again  the  Wigwam 
rocked  with  the  shouting  as  each  candidate  was  pre- 
sented. 


238    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

The  balloting  began.  The  very  first  ballot  showed 
the  race  to  be  between  Seward  and  Lincoln.  On  the 
first  ballot  Seward  received  173^  ;  Lincoln  102.  New 
York  felt  sure  of  victory  for  her  favorite  son,  but  the 
second  ballot  showed  Lincoln  creeping  up  with  181  to 
Seward's  184^2. 

The  ballot  reports  continued  in  singsong,  the  at- 
mosphere became  electric  with  excitement  and  nerv- 
ousness: "Lincoln  231^;  Seward  180."  Messengers 
at  skylights  on  the  roof  listened  and  then  shouted  the 
results  to  the  mass  of  listening  people  in  the  street 
below  packed  outside  the  building. 

There  was  no  noise  now,  but  a  tense  stillness  as  the 
crowds  within  waited  to  see  what  change  in  what  state 
would  shift  the  balance.  Lincoln  held  2313/2.  Only 
233  were  necessary  to  decide  it.  Suddenly  Ohio  an- 
nounced a  change  of  four  votes  from  Chase  to  Lincoln, 
and  the  Convention  broke  into  tumult.  A  skylight 
messenger  shrieked  the  announcement  of  Lincoln's 
nomination  to  the  assembled  thousands  in  the  street  and 
set  off  a  cannon  on  the  roof  of  the  Wigwam  that 
boomed  out  the  decision  in  thunderous  salute. 

The  throng  without  took  up  the  shouts  of  the  crowd 
within  and  sent  it  reechoing  until  it  drowned  out  the 
din  of  city  streets.  The  demonstration  was  all  the 
more  frantic  for  the  triumph  of  anti-slavery  that  it 
marked.  Within,  the  audience  was  in  a  frenzy  of  ex- 
citement. And  the  cause  of  all  that  frenzied  approval 
on  the  part  of  the  people  was  the  outspoken  and  un- 
compromising stand  of  an  undistinguished  "country 
lawyer,"  a  stand  which  he  had  already  taken  six  years 


NOMINATED  FOR  PRESIDENCY        239 

before  when  he  had  addressed  a  meeting  in  Peoria, 
Illinois,  as  follows: 

"Slavery  is  founded  on  the  selfishness  of  man's  na- 
ture— opposition  to  it  on  the  love  of  justice.  These 
principles  are  in  eternal  antagonism ;  and  when  brought 
into  collision  as  fiercely  as  slavery  extension  brings 
them,  shocks  and  throes  and  convulsions  must  follow 
ceaselessly. 

"Repeal  the  Missouri  Compromise;  repeal  all  Com- 
promise ;  repeal  the  Declaration  of  Independence ;  repeal 
all  past  history;  you  cannot  repeal  human  nature!  It 
will  still  be  in  the  abundance  of  man's  heart  that  slavery 
extension  is  wrong  and  out  of  the  abundance  of  the 
heart  his  mouth  will  continue  to  speak." 

Meanwhile  one  delegation  after  another  threw  their 
votes  in  to  swell  Lincoln's  total.  As  soon  as  a  voice 
could  be  heard,  New  York  gracefully  made  a  motion 
that  the  nomination  be  made  unanimous. 

That  afternoon  the  Convention  nominated  Hannibal 
Hamlin  of  Maine  for  Vice  President,  and  that  night 
with  bonfires  and  cheers  the  campaign  began. 

The  names  of  the  candidates  were  later  arranged  in 
a  sort  of  fantastic  campaign  acrostic  thus : — • 

H  A  M  —  L  I  N 
L   I    N-COLN' 
ABRA— HAMLIN  —  COLN 

In  the  meanwhile,  where  was  Lincoln  himself?  Not 
at  the  Convention,  but  back  in  quiet  Springfield.  He 
spent  the  time  restlessly  waiting  for  the  nominating  re- 
sults, unable  to  concentrate  upon  anything.    He  wan- 


240    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

dered  downtown,  stopped  in  at  friends'  offices  for  dis- 
cussion; hung  around  the  telegraph  office,  saw  trains 
enter  the  stations  where  he  cornered  any  friend  return- 
ing from  Chicago,  and  pressed  him  for  news;  went 
home  uneasily  in  the  middle  of  the  morning,  strolled 
restlessly  out  again,  returned  early;  tried  to  play  with 
his  boys ;  tried  to  read,  gave  it  up.  On  the  third  day 
he  wandered  around  to  a  friend's  law  office  and  flinging 
himself  down  on  the  couch  remarked  wearily,  "Well, 
I  guess  I'll  go  back  to  law  practice."  He  was  melan- 
choly and  depressed  and  did  not  hope  for  the  nomina- 
tion. 

The  balloting  had  begun  and  Lincoln  could  not  keep 
quiet  nor  compose  himself  to  sprawl  long  on  the  lounge 
that  morning.  He  joined  the  throng  at  the  telegraph 
office  listening  to  returns.  All  of  a  sudden  he  remem- 
bered that  his  wife  had  sent  him  out  to  buy  a  beefsteak, 
which  he  had  totally  forgotten.  He  hurried  over  to  the 
butcher  shop  and  bought  it  and  with  the  parcel  under 
one  arm  paused  at  the  door  to  chat  with  a  group  of 
friends  when  there  was  a  commotion  and  cheering 
at  the  telegraph  office.  A  boy  came  galloping  to  him 
yelling  the  news,  some  say  it  was  his  own  son  Willie, 
shouting,  "Papa!  you're  nominated!  You're  nomi- 
nated!" 

In  a  minute  the  street  was  in  an  uproar  and  Lincoln 
surrounded  by  excited  neighbors  pressing  in  upon  him 
to  wring  his  hand  and  one  another's.  One  man  cried 
out,  "What !  Abe  Lincoln  nominated  for  President  of 
the  United  States!  Can  it  be  possible?  A  man  that 
buys  a  ten-cent  beefsteak  for  his  breakfast  and  carries 
it  home  himself !" 


NOMINATED  FOR  PRESIDENCY        241 

Down  the  streets  ran  more  people,  heads  popped  out 
of  hastily  opened  windows,  people  in  the  streets  called 
up  the  news  to  them.  Lincoln  was  the  center  of  a 
handshaking,  cheering  throng,  hats  were  tossed  high  in 
air,  handkerchiefs  waved,  little  boys  turned  hand- 
springs. From  the  midst  of  it  all  Lincoln  broke  away, 
saying : — 

"My  friends,  I  am  glad  to  receive  your  congratula- 
tions, and  as  there  is  a  little  woman  down  on  Eighth 
Street  who  will  be  glad  to  hear  the  news  too,  you  must 
excuse  me  until  I  inform  her." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

ELECTION   DAY 

Lincoln  was  no  sooner  nominated  than  all  sorts  of 
gifts  and  offerings  began  to  be  sent  him,  and  among 
them  appeared  an  elegant  high  silk  hat  donated  by  a 
New  York  hat-maker.  Other  clothing  firms,  perhaps 
prompted  by  reports  of  his  awkward  attire,  sent  hand- 
some gifts  of  expensive  clothing.  Lincoln  laughed  at 
this  and  chuckled,  "Well,  wife,  if  nothing  else  comes 
of  this  scrape  we  are  going  to  have  some  new  clothes 
out  of  it  at  any  rate !"  Lincoln  had  spent  the  Sunday 
before  the  Convention  met  comfortably  and  quietly  at 
home  with  his  wife  and  boys.  It  was  the  last  idle 
and  serene  day  with  his  family  that  Lincoln  was  able 
to  indulge  in.  Speaking  of  it  afterwards  Mrs.  Lincoln 
said :  "We  had  before  us  a  New  York  illustrated  weekly, 
in  which  a  number  of  Presidential  candidates  were  rep- 
resented in  a  double-page  group,  Mr.  Seward's  portrait 
being  conspicuous  over  all  as  that  of  the  coming  man. 
Mr.  Lincoln's  picture  was  there,  such  as  it  was,  and  it 
couldn't  have  been  made  more  dismal.  Half  seriously 
I  said  to  him,  'One  look  at  that  face  is  enough  to  put 
an  end  to  hope !'  " 

There  were  no  more  quiet  family  days  of  comfortable 
privacy  now.  Their  house  and  yard  were  overrun  by 
politicians,  curiosity  seekers,  old  friends,  committees 
and  all  sorts  of  callers.  As  for  his  picture,  it  now 
appeared  on  the  front  page  of  every  newspaper,  and 


ELECTION  DAY  243 

Lincoln  used  to  laugh  and  tell  this  story  of  it.  His 
photograph,  taken  casually  some  time  before,  was  seized 
upon  for  print  by  the  papers  and  proved  far  from  flat- 
tering. "This  coarse,  rough  hair  of  mine,"  he  said, 
"was  in  a  particularly  bad  tousle  and  the  picture  pre- 
sented me  in  all  its  fright.  The  newsboys  used  to 
shout,  'Here's  your  old  Abe,  he'll  look  better  when  he 
gets  his  hair  combed  V  " 

It  was  a  singular  feature  of  this  election  that  Mary 
Lincoln  saw  Lincoln's  old  rival,  Stephen  A.  Douglas, 
run  against  him  as  Democratic  candidate  for  the  Pres- 
idency ! 

The  strange  parallelism  of  these  two  men  ran  thus : — 

Both  were  admitted  to  practice  in  the  Supreme  Court 
of  Illinois  on  the  selfsame  day; 

Both  courted  Mary  Todd ; 

Both  represented  Illinois  in  Congress; 

Both  were  rival  candidates  for  Senatorship ; 

And  they  were  both  candidates  for  the  Presidential 
nomination  of  i860. 

A  formal  announcement  of  the  nomination  was  made 
to  Lincoln  by  a  committee  of  thirty  whom  he,  in  turn, 
informally  entertained. 

The  committee  arrived  at  the  plain  Lincoln  home  in 
Springfield  somewhere  around  sunset  time  on  Saturday 
evening.  One  of  the  Lincoln  boys  was  sitting  on  the 
gate  post  as  the  thirty  men  filed  into  the  yard.  There 
was  no  crowd.  The  crowd  was  all  downtown  listen- 
ing to  a  political  spellbinder  who  was  supporting  Mr. 
Douglas.  They  found  Lincoln  dressed  in  a  black  frock 
coat  standing  before  the  fireplace.    For  a  few  moments 


244    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

there  were  constraint  and  embarrassment  on  both  sides. 
Then  the  men  stated  their  errand.  At  the  conclusion 
of  Mr.  Kelly's  words,  Lincoln  laughed  and  said : 

"You  are  a  tall  man,  Judge.    What  is  your  height  ?" 

"Six  feet  three,"  replied  Kelly. 

"I  beat  you.  I  am  six  feet  four  without  my  high- 
heeled  boots." 

"Pennsylvania  bows  to  Illinois.  I  am  glad  that  we 
have  found  a  candidate  for  the  Presidency  whom  we 
can  look  up  to,  for  we  have  been  informed  that  there 
were  only  'Little  Giants'  in  Illinois." 

"Mrs.  Lincoln  will  be  pleased  to  see  you,  gentle- 
men," said  the  host  after  a  pleasant  hour  of  talk  with 
the  committee.  "You  will  find  her  in  the  other  room. 
You  must  be  thirsty  after  your  long  ride.  You  will 
find  a  pitcher  of  water  in  the  library." 

From  that  night  a  swarm  of  people  sought  "the  little 
house  on  Eighth  Street."  In  August,  seventy  thou- 
sand people  from  the  West  flocked  into  Springfield  on 
one  single  day  to  visit  Abraham  Lincoln.  With  wives 
and  babies  in  wagons ;  with  camp  kits,  tents,  pots  and 
pans,  the  thousands  thronged  into  Springfield  and 
camped  out  in  one  mighty  visit  upon  the  candidate 
whom  one  friendly  Democratic  editor  had  jokingly 
declared  was  "called  'Honest  Abe'  to  distinguish  him 
from  the  rest  of  the  Party!" 

Election  Day  fell  that  year  on  November  6th. 
Bright  and  early  Lincoln  was  at  his  desk  in  the  State 
House  sorting  his  mail  as  if  it  were  any  other  business 
day.  There  was  a  calmness  about  him  this  time  that 
contrasted  with  his  restlessness  on  the  day  of  nomina- 
tion.    His  friends  began  to  pour  in  upon  him  until 


ELECTION  DAY  245 

they  filled  office  and  hall  and  some  one  suggested,  "You 
will  have  to  shut  the  doors  so  you  can  be  alone."  To 
this  Lincoln  answered,  "No,  no.  I  have  never  done 
such  a  thing  in  my  life  as  to  close  my  door  on  a  friend 
and  I  surely  will  not  begin  to-day.' '  He  spent  the 
whole  day,  therefore,  in  entertaining  visitors. 

Up  and  down  the  streets  all  day  voters  came  and 
went  from  the  polls.  Lincoln  had  made  up  his  mind 
not  to  vote  because  "his  name  headed  the  Republican 
ticket  and  he  did  not  want  to  vote  for  himself."  Some- 
body said,  "Why  not  strike  off  your  name  and  vote 
the  rest  of  the  ticket  ?" 

"So  I  will!"  agreed  Lincoln,  and  went  out  to  vote. 
Of  course  he  was  recognized  and  cheered  lustily  and 
even  Democratic  citizens  paused  to  wave  and  give  a 
friendly  hurrah  for  their  popular  neighbor. 

It  was  a  day  of  tense  anticipation  for  Mary  Todd 
Lincoln,  who  years  before  had  declared,  "I  mean  to 
make  him  President  of  the  United  States.  You  will 
see  that,  as  I  always  told  you,  I  will  yet  be  the  Presi- 
dent's wife!"  She  seemed  confident  now  in  her  pro- 
phetic certainty  of  the  outcome  and  her  certainty 
seemed  to  take  hold  of  her  husband.  Election  returns 
could  not  be  expected  before  eight  that  night,  and 
by  seven  Mrs.  Lincoln  had  given  him  a  substantial 
supper  of  his  favorite  dishes  and  sent  the  waiting  can- 
didate back  to  his  friends  downtown.  She  stayed  at 
home  with  the  children. 

That  must  have  been  an  exciting  scene  down  at  the 
old  hall  in  Springfield  where  Lincoln  went  to  hear  the 
returns.  The  first  news  naturally  came  from  Illinois, 
closely  followed  by  despatches  from  Missouri,  where 


246    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

considerable  opposition  was  expected.  But,  on  the  con- 
trary, nothing  but  good  news  came  over  the  wire.  And 
then  came  a  telegram  from  Simon  Cameron:  "Penn- 
sylvania seventy  thousand  for  you.  New  York  safe. 
Glory  enough."  The  hall  full  of  people  began  a  tri- 
umphant march,  chanting  the  campaign  song  of  the 
year,  "Oh,  ain't  you  glad  you  joined  the  Republicans?" 
But  Lincoln  seemed  more  pleased  over  the  fact  that 
he  had  carried  his  own  precinct  in  Springfield  than  over 
the  constant  flow  of  victorious  telegrams  from  the  East. 
When  he  had  made  sure  about  his  home  town's  vote 
he  got  up  happily  and  said,  "Boys,  I  think  I  will  go 
home  now,  for  there  is  a  little  woman  there  who  would 
like  to  hear  the  news." 

The  result  of  the  election  was  practically  a  certainty 
at  twelve  o'clock,  the  hour  the  candidate  for  president 
had  promised  his  wife  to  be  home.  The  club  gave  him 
three  rousing  cheers  and  he  left  the  room.  When  he 
reached  home  he  went  on  tiptoe  to  his  wife's  bedroom 
and  found  her  sound  asleep.  He  touched  her  gently 
on  the  shoulder  and  said,  "Mary,"  but  she  did  not 
awaken.  And  then  he  spoke  again,  louder,  saying, 
"Mary,  Mary!    We  are  elected!" 

But  before  he  himself  retired  that  night,  it  was 
typical  of  the  man  to  have  selected  every  member  of 
his  Cabinet  save  one.  As  he  said  later:  "I  wanted 
Seward,  for  I  had  the  highest  respect  for  him  and  the 
utmost  confidence  in  his  ability.  I  wanted  Chase  for 
Secretary  of  the  Treasury.  I  considered  him  one  of 
the  ablest,  best  and  most  reliable  men  in  the  country 
and  a  good  representative  of  the  progressive  anti- 
slavery  element  of  the  Democratic  party.     I  wanted 


ELECTION  DAY  24tf 

Welles,  whose  acquaintance  I  made  in  Hartford,  for 
Secretary  of  the  Navy.  I  wanted  all  my  competitors 
to  have  a  place  on  the  Cabinet  in  order  to  create  har- 
mony." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

WAR    CLOUDS 

"The  Solid  South"  had  said  that  if  Lincoln  were 
elected,  the  South  would  secede.  Lincoln  was  elected. 
War  clouds  gathered. 

Lincoln's  victory  had  made  him,  so  the  New  York 
Herald  declared,  a  "Sectional  President/'  for  the 
South  had  taken  no  part  whatever  in  electing  him.  In 
fact  fifteen  states  gave  him  no  electoral  vote  at  all  and 
in  ten  states  not  a  single  popular  vote  was  cast  for 
him. 

He  was  elected  in  November.  In  February  a  great 
Southern  convention  was  held  in  Alabama  to  discuss 
withdrawal  from  the  Union  and  the  formation  of  a 
new  Southern  Confederacy.  A  tentative  constitution 
was  drawn  up  and  suggested  officers  chosen  with 
startling  brilliance  and  dispatch. 

Now  the  North  was  panic-stricken.  The  prospect 
of  disrupted  trade  with  the  cotton  growing  South  dis- 
mayed the  manufacturing  North.  Peace  meetings 
were  held  in  all  the  large  cities  of  the  free  states  to 
endeavor  to  affect  conciliation. 

On  Lincoln  was  thrown  the  brunt  of  the  threatened 
disaster.  All  over  the  North  it  was  being  said  that 
his  election  had  brought  on  trouble,  and  now  what 
was  he  going  to  do  about  it? 

Lincoln's  hands  were  tied.    He  was  elected ;  he  was 

248 


WAR  CLOUDS  249 

the  cause  of  national  dissension,  but  he  was  not  yet 
President.  Buchanan  and  his  Cabinet  were  still  in- 
vested with  the  power  of  government. 

In  the  time  remaining  until  March,  when  Lincoln 
would  take  the  reins,  the  nation  held  its  breath  for  the 
crisis,  the  South  ominous,  threatening,  the  North  anx- 
ious, conciliatory. 

The  Buchanan  Cabinet  used  this  time  to  suit  itself. 

In  order  to  know  just  what  this  Cabinet  was  doing 
and  why,  we  will  have  to  look  back  a  little. 

Lincoln  happened  now  (in  1861)  to  be  the  storm 
center,  but  this  was  far  from  being  the  first  time  that 
secession  threatened  the  nation. 

As  far  back  as  1832,  South  Carolina  independently 
announced  that  she  would  withdraw  from  the  Union 
and  set  up  a  government  all  her  own,  unless  some  con- 
cessions were  promptly  made  her.  Her  grievance  was 
not  slavery  at  all  but  the  tariff.  She  got  her  conces- 
sions. Nor  was  the  South  alone  in  this— Northern 
states,  too,  had  restlessly  threatened  secession,  but  this 
caused  no  serious  fear,  as  none  had  proved  in  earnest. 

The  Missouri  Compromise  in  1820  had  opened  the 
way  to  the  most  serious  threatened  disunion.  In  1825 
when  it  was  a  question  of  deciding  whether  California 
should  be  free  or  not,  Robert  Toombs  of  Georgia  de- 
clared hotly  in  a  speech  in  the  House  of  Representatives 
that  he  openly  vowed  "before  this  House,  the  country, 
and  in  the  presence  of  the  living  God,  that  if  by  your 
legislation  you  seek  to  drive  us  from  the  territories 
of  California  and  New  Mexico  .  .  .  I  am  for  dis- 
union!" Calhoun  also  at  this  time  urged  secession  if 
concessions  were  not  made. 


250    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

In  June,  1850,  leading  Southern  statesmen  held  a 
convention  in  Nashville  and  drew  up  a  declaration  that 
a  state  had  the  abstract  right  to  secede  from  the  Union 
if  it  wanted  to. 

The  South  based  its  right  to  secede  on  the  ground 
that  the  Union  was  simply  a  confederation  of  sover- 
eign states,  framed  for  mutual  advantage,  and  when 
advantage  ceased  a  state  might  withdraw  at  will. 

It  based  its  desire  to  secede  on  the  grounds  that  the 
North  had  imposed  anti-personal-liberty  laws  contrary 
to  the  Constitution ;  that  the  South  had  been  over-taxed 
by  high  tariff  for  the  benefit  of  Northern  manufac- 
tures; and  that  a  sectional  President  hostile  to  their 
deep-seated  economical  institutions  of  slavery  had  been 
elected. 

At  the  Presidential  election  of  1856,  ex-President 
Tyler  prophesied  that  "the  success  of  the  Black  Re- 
publicans would  sound  the  knell  of  the  Union,"  and 
Governor  Wise  of  Virginia  wrote  that  if  the  Republi- 
can candidate  were  elected,  the  union  would  not  last  a 
year. 

In  fact,  the  South  then,  as  in  i860,  was  declared 
ready  to  secede  if  an  anti-slavery  Republican  President 
won.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  Buchanan,  the 
Democrat,  who  was  elected  and  who  was  chiefly  char- 
acterized by  a  vacillating  and  weakly  conciliatory  atti- 
tude, first  trying  to  ingratiate  one  side,  then  the  other. 
He  was  caught  in  a  dilemma.  Cautious,  almost  timid, 
and  with  small  executive  power,  he  seemed  a  figure- 
head only.  His  Cabinet  had  things  much  their  own 
way,  and  their  way  was  of  Southern  sympathy. 

Then  came  Lincoln.    At  the  first  intimation  of  his 


WAR  CLOUDS  251 

possibility  as  President  a  canvass  of  Southern  States 
was  made  to  determine  their  willingness  to  secede  if 
he  received  the  election. 

Needless  to  say,  it  was  impetuous  South  Caro- 
lina that  took  the  first  step.  Lincoln  was  elected  in 
November,  i860.  A  month  later,  on  December  17th, 
the  South  Carolina  legislature  called  a  secession  con- 
vention. The  South  Carolinians  sincerely  believed 
that  the  slavery  agitation  threatened  their  peace,  pros- 
perity and  the  happiness  of  their  homes.  They  had 
always  held  it  right  to  love  their  state  more  than  the 
Union.  They  voted  for  secession,  and  with  the  wild 
demonstrations  of  enthusiasm  that  greeted  it,  they  cele- 
brated the  decision  with  the  spirit  and  fervor  of  1776. 

Lincoln  was  still  only  President-elect,  but  secession 
went  on.  With  the  New  Year,  1861,  Mississippi,  Flor- 
ida, Alabama  and  Georgia  joined  Carolina's  decision, 
not  by  popular  vote,  but  through  conventions.  Georgia 
balked  at  secession  under  the  Union  lead  of  its  gover- 
nor, Alexander  H.  Stephens,  who  said,  "the  State  would 
have  refused  but  for  the  cry  'We  can  make  better  terms 
out  of  the  Union  than  in  it !'  "  Georgia  looked  to  se- 
ceding temporarily  for  the  sake  of  sharper  parley. 
January  closed  with  Louisiana  making  the  seventh  se- 
ceding state.  Texas  joined  the  others  on  February  1st, 
by  vote  of  the  people.  The  last  mentioned  seven  states 
comprised  the  crucial  "cotton  belt." 

This  brings  us  around  to  February  and  the  afore- 
mentioned Confederacy  Convention,  based  on  the  right 
of  a  state  to  withdraw  from  the  Union  at  will. 

In  the  President's  Message  to  Congress  that  previous 
December,  Buchanan  had  denied  his  own  power  and 


252    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

that  of  Congress  to  prevent  secession.  He  based  this 
upon  the  official  opinion  of  his  Attorney-General.  Last 
minute  changes  in  his  Cabinet  did  not  come  in  time  to 
readjust  matters  that  former  members  had  prepared 
for  Lincoln's  term.  Buchanan's  Secretary  of  War,  a 
Southerner,  in  the  belief  that  to  the  states  individually 
belonged  the  forts  and  arsenals  in  them,  had  not  pre- 
vented their  being  taken  possession  of  by  the  states. 
He  scattered  the  United  States  Army  so  thoroughly 
through  the  South  that  it  was  not  on  hand  in  a  body 
for  a  new  President  to  manipulate  promptly.  The  Sec- 
retary of  the  Navy  had  the  small  Navy  "sent  to  the  four 
quarters  of  the  globe/ '  so  that  no  naval  force  was 
quickly  available  for  any  Northern  move.  The  Secre- 
tary of  the  Interior  was  the  busiest  of  all.  As  for  the 
Secretary  of  the  Treasury — he  left  the  Treasury  empty. 
This  was  the  inheritance  Lincoln  came  into ! 


PART    V 
Civil  War 

"My  paramount  object  in  this  war  is  to  save  the  Union. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

LINCOLN   GOES   TO   WASHINGTON 

So  the  storm  clouds  kept  lowering  during  Lincoln's 
period  of  inaction  as  President-elect. 

The  time  now  approached  when  he  must  leave  the 
quiet  of  Springfield  for  the  turbulence  of  the  Nation's 
Capital.  There  were  qualms  in  his  heart  at  the  actual 
parting.  Perhaps  he  felt  then  as  he  had  before,  when 
elected  to  Congress,  "it  has  not  pleased  me  as  much 
as  I  expected,"  for  he  lingered  around  familiar  places 
as  if  he  half  wished  he  might  be  spared  the  turmoil  of 
Presidency  for  the  serenity  of  country  law  practice. 
Some  premonition  of  his  fate  in  public  office  seemed 
foreshadowed  in  these  days  even  to  the  point  of  rous- 
ing Mrs.  Lincoln's  second  sense  and  uncanny  intuition 
to  a  point  bordering  on  the  superstitious.  Lincoln,  him- 
self, intimates  this  in  his  own  way  in  relating  the 
following  "omen": 

"It  was  just  after  my  election  in  i860,  when  the  news 
had  been  coming  in  thick  and  fast  all  day,  and  there 
had  been  a  great  'Hurrah,  boys!'  so  that  I  was  well 
tired  out,  and  went  home  to  rest,  throwing  myself  down 
on  a  lounge  in  my  chamber.  Opposite  where  I  lay 
was  a  bureau — (and  here  he  got  up  and  placed  the 
furniture  to  illustrate  the  position) — and,  looking  in 
that  glass,  I  saw  myself  reflected,  nearly  at  full  length; 
but  my  face,  I  noticed,  had  two  separate  and  distinct 

255 


256    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

images,  the  top  of  the  nose  of  one  being  about  three 
inches  from  the  top  of  the  other.  I  was  a  little 
bothered,  perhaps  startled,  and  got  up  and  looked  in 
the  glass,  but  the  illusion  vanished.  On  lying  down 
again  I  saw  it  a  second  time — plainer,  if  possible,  than 
before;  and  then  I  noticed  that  one  of  the  faces  was 
a  little  paler,  say  five  shades,  than  the  other.  I  got  up 
and  the  thing  melted  away,  and  I  went  off  and,  in  the 
excitement  of  the  hour,  forgot  all  about  it — nearly,  but 
not  quite,  for  the  thing  would  once  in  a  while  come  up 
and  give  me  a  little  pang,  as  though  something  uncom- 
fortable had  happened.  When  I  went  home  again  that 
night  I  told  my  wife  about  it,  and  a  few  days  afterward 
I  tried  the  experiment  again,  when,  sure  enough,  the 
thing  came  again;  but  I  never  succeeded  in  bringing 
the  ghost  back  after  that,  though  I  tried  very  indus- 
triously to  show  it  to  my  wife,  who  was  somewhat 
worried  about  it.  She  thought  it  was  a  'sign'  that  I 
was  to  be  elected  to  a  second  term  of  office,  and  thafr 
the  paleness  of  one  of  the  faces  was  an  omen  that  I 
should  not  see  life  through  the  last  term." 

The  departure  for  Washington  was  too  momentous 
a  step  to  be  made  without  due  farewell  to  his  aged 
step-mother.  She  was  now  so  old  that  there  was  rea- 
sonable fear  that  she  might  not  live  to  see  his  return. 
Before  starting  for  Washington,  therefore,  Lincoln 
went  to  Coles  County  to  visit  his  "folks"  and  came 
first  to  the  home  of  his  cousin  and  companion,  good 
Dennis  Hanks,  who  celebrated  "Abe's"  arrival  with  a 
neighborhood  jamboree  of  carefree  country  gayety  and 
plenteous  food.  This  was  the  last  old-time  party  of  its 
kind  that  Lincoln,  already  in  the  shadow  of  the  White 


LINCOLN  GOES  TO  WASHINGTON      257 

House  with  its  cares  and  stately  ceremonies,  was  ever 
to  enjoy  with  his  own  people. 

He  spent  the  night  with  Dennis  and  his  family  and 
next  morning  after  an  early  and  generous  country 
breakfast,  he  set  off  in  a  two-horse  buggy  towards 
Farmington,  where  his  step-mother  was  then  living 
with  one  married  daughter.  It  was  February,  not  long 
before  another  anniversary  of  the  famous  blizzard  and 
the  weather  was  keen  and  wintry.  They  came  to  the 
Kickapoo  River  and  found  it  rushing  high,  full  of 
sharp  and  dangerous  ice  blocks  which  threatened  their 
passage  as  they  tried  to  ford  it.  The  horses  objected 
to  the  icy  plunge,  shied  at  the  scurrying  ice,  and 
nearly  tipped  over  the  buggy,  but,  by  good  fortune, 
Lincoln  succeeded  in  reaching  his  mother's  safe  and  far 
dryer  than  he  had  been  on  their  first  trip  to  Illinois 
in  his  twenty-first  February,  when  he  waded  an  icy 
river  to  save  a  pet  dog. 

Old  Sally  Bush  Lincoln  rushed  out  overjoyed  to 
see  her  famous  son.  Short  and  chubby,  she  endeavored 
to  embrace  her  Abe's  tall  lanky  figure,  and  gave  way 
to  motherly  emotion  and  pride  in  tears. 

When  it  came  time  for  Abe  to  leave  her  she  quite 
broke  down,  clung  fast  to  him,  and  said  tremulously 
that  she  feared  she  would  never  lay  eyes  on  him  again 
for  some  foe  was  sure  to  assassinate  him  for  holding 
such  a  great  public  office.  Lincoln  comforted  her  with 
a  hug  and  the  assurance,  "No,  no,  Mother,  they  will  not 
do  that.  Trust  in  the  Lord  and  all  will  be  well.  We 
shall  see  each  other  again." 

Before  leaving,  Lincoln  went  to  his  father's  grave. 
It  was  only  a  pathetic,  unmarked  hummock  overgrown 


258    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

with  coarse  grass  and  weeds.  Lincoln  arranged  then 
and  there  to  "have  it  enclosed  and  a  suitable  tombstone 
erected." 

He  then  returned  to  Springfield  and  at  eight  o'clock 
in  the  morning  of  February  nth,  that  cold,  clear  day- 
be  fore  his  birthday,  he  left  Springfield.  Townspeople 
gathered  at  the  little  station  to  shake  his  hand  and 
wave  farewell.  His  friend,  Henry  Villard,  preserved 
the  extemporaneous  speech  he  made  to  the  crowd  on 
the  station  platform  and  sent  it  over  the  telegraph  wires 
as  follows: 

"My  Friends:  No  one  not  in  my  position  can 
appreciate  the  sadness  I  feel  at  this  parting.  To  this 
people  I  owe  all  that  I  am.  Here  I  have  lived  more 
than  a  quarter  of  a  century;  here  my  children  were 
born,  and  here  one  of  them  lies  buried.  I  do  not  know 
how  soon  I  shall  see  you  again.  A  duty  devolves  upon 
me  which  is,  perhaps,  greater  than  that  which  has  de- 
volved upon  any  other  man  since  the  days  of  Washing- 
ton. He  would  never  have  succeeded  except  for  the 
aid  of  Divine  Providence,  upon  which  he  at  all  times 
relied.  I  feel  that  I  cannot  succeed  without  the  same 
Divine  aid  which  sustained  him,  and  in  the  same  Al- 
mighty Being  I  place  my  reliance  for  support  and  I 
hope  you,  my  friends,  will  all  pray  that  I  may  receive 
that  Divine  assistance  without  which  I  cannot  succeed, 
and  with  which  success  is  certainc  Again  I  bid  you  all 
an  affectionate  farewell." 

Amid  applause  and  waving  of  hats,  hands  and  hand- 
kerchiefs, the  train  drew  out  bearing  away  the  last 
glimpse  Springfield  had  of  Lincoln's  tall  lean  figure 
erect  and  smiling. 


LINCOLN  GOES  TO  WASHINGTON      259 

On  rushed  the  train  toward  Washington  at  last! 
With  what  emotions  must  Mrs.  Lincoln  have  glanced 
out  at  flying  scenery  and  at  the  assemblages  of  waving, 
cheering  people  lining  the  railroad  stations  as  the  train 
swept  through  bearing  her  to  the  Capitol  where  she 
was,  after  all,  to  be  as  she  had  often  said,  the  wife  of 
the  President  of  the  United  States!  With  what  sen- 
sations must  Tad  and  Willie,  bound  for  their  White 
House  home,  have  scuffled  for  a  place  at  the  window 
to  press  noses  against  the  pane  and  stare  at  the  throngs 
cheering  their  father  from  station  platforms !  Robert, 
on  his  way  to  Harvard,  sat  soberly  as  befit  the  dignity 
of  an  elder  brother,  taking  much  family  responsibility 
upon  his  own  shoulders,  which  afterwards  got  him 
into  a  bit  of  a  scrape  and  caused  his  father  some  keen 
anxiety.  This  happened  later.  Meanwhile,  as  the  train 
whirled  through  the  country  so  many  people  thronged 
tracks  and  stations  for  a  peep  at  the  new  President 
that  whenever  the  train  stopped  long  enough  he  stood 
on  the  car  platform  and  made  speech  after  speech 
through  town  after  town,  in  one  state  after  another. 
In  the  larger  cities  civic  committees  greeted  him  and 
longer  speeches  were  demanded.  At  Pittsburgh  an 
address  of  welcome  by  the  Mayor  greeted  him  and  a 
reception  by  the  Common  Council  followed.  In  his 
speech  before  them  Lincoln  referred  thus  to  that  sorely 
vexing  problem,  the  tariff: 

"The  tariff  is  a  question  of  national  housekeeping. 
It  is  to  the  Government  what  replenishing  the  flour 
barrel  is  to  the  family.' ' 

From  Pittsburgh  the  train  went  on  to  Cleveland  and 
another  stop  for  a  speech  in  which  he  said : 


260    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

"If  all  do  not  join  now  to  save  the  good  old  Ship  of 
the  Union  on  this  voyage,  nobody  will  have  a  chance 
to  pilot  her  on  another  voyage." 

As  the  train  flew  on,  Mrs.  Lincoln  sat  lost  in  thought, 
perhaps  pondering  the  superstitious  warning  of  her 
husband's  "optical  omen."  They  traveled  in  an  ordi- 
nary day  coach,  and,  absorbed  in  her  own  thoughts, 
she  took  no  notice  of  Tad's  antics.  He  was  beside  her 
on  the  seat,  next  the  window,  and  kept  mischievously 
trying  "to  catch  the  fingers  of  boys  outside."  Tad 
would  open  the  window  a  crack  and  then  try  to  slam 
it  down  again  on  the  boys'  fingers.  His  father,  re- 
turning from  speaking  outside,  sternly  bade  Tad  stop 
it,  but  in  a  few  minutes  the  young  rogue  was  at  it 
again.  Again  Lincoln  reprimanded  him.  Again,  after 
a  pause,  Tad  renewed  his  trick.  Thereupon,  the  Presi- 
dent leaned  over,  snatched  Tad  unceremoniously, 
stretched  him  across  his  knees,  and  "gave  him  a  good 
spanking,"  saying,  "Why  do  you  want  to  mash  those 
boys'  fingers  ?" 

A  wreck  on  the  line  here  (near  Freedom,  Pa.)  de- 
layed the  train  some  time  and  Lincoln  went  out  and 
watched  the  wrecking  crew  at  work.  When  the  train 
started  again,  one  man  in  the  crowd  commented  to 
Mr.  Dibble:  "He  is  not  the  kind  of  man  I  expected 
to  see,  except  that  he  is  tall.  I  expected  to  see  a  jolly- 
looking  man.  He  looked  sad  enough  to  be  going  to 
his  death,  instead  of  to  be  inaugurated  President  of 
the  United  States !" 

At  Westfield,  New  York,  Lincoln's  solemnity  was 
broken  by  a  pleasant  little  incident.  Col.  Alex  Mc- 
Clure  tells  us  that  little  Grace  Bedell,  of  Westfield, 


LINCOLN  GOES  TO  WASHINGTON      261 

saw  a  portrait  of  Lincoln  during  the  Presidential  cam- 
paign.    She  said  to  her  mother: 

"  'I  think  Mr.  Lincoln  would  look  better  if  he  wore 
whiskers  and  I'm  going  to  write  and  tell  him  so/  Her 
father  was  a  Republican,  but  her  two  brothers  were 
Democrats.  She  wrote  to  'Hon.  Abraham  Lincoln, 
Esq./  and  told  him  how  old  she  was;  where  she  lived; 
that  she  was  a  Republican;  that  she  thought  he  would 
make  a  good  President,  but  would  look  better  if  he  let 
his  beard  grow.  If  he  would  do  this  she  would  try  to 
coax  her  brothers  to  vote  for  him.  She  said  she  thought 
the  rail  fence  around  his  cabin,  in  the  picture,  was  very- 
pretty,  and  wound  up  with : 

"  'If  you  have  not  time  to  answer  my  letter,  will 
you  allow  your  little  girl  to  reply  for  you  ?' 

"Lincoln  was  pleased  with  the  letter  and  answered 
it  at  once  as  follows: 

"  'Springfield,  III.,  Oct.  19,  i860. 
"  'Miss  Grace  Bedell : 

"  'My  dear  little  Miss :  Your  very  agreeable  letter 
of  the  15th  is  received.  I  regret  the  necessity  of  saying 
I  have  no  daughter.  I  have  three  sons ;  one  seventeen ; 
one  nine  and  one  seven  years  of  age.  They,  with  their 
mother,  constitute  my  whole  family.  As  to  whiskers, 
having  never  worn  any,  do  you  not  think  people  would 
call  it  a  piece  of  silly  affectation  if  I  should  begin  now? 
"  'Your  very  sincere  well-wisher, 

"  'A  Lincoln.'  " 

So  when  the  train  stopped  at  the  village  of  West- 
field,  one  of  the  aides  of  the  President-elect  called  out 
from  the  rear  platform  of  Lincoln's  coach  and  asked 


262    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

whether  there  might  be  a  girl  by  the  name  of  Grace 
Bedell  in  the  crowd  which  had  surrounded  the  train. 
The  little  girl  made  her  way  through  the  throng  and 
as  she  approached  the  platform  the  man  with  the  new 
beard  grown  at  this  little  lady's  request  lifted  her 
up  and  kissed  her,  much  to  the  enjoyment  of  the 
crowd. 

Here  indeed  was  something  for  Grace  to  tell  and  re- 
tell to  her  future  grandchildren ! 

Lincoln's  roundabout  journey  took  him  through 
Buffalo,  where  he  spent  Sunday,  going  on  Monday  to 
Rochester,  and  thence  to  Syracuse,  where  an  elaborate 
platform  had  been  erected  for  him  to  speak  from,  but 
there  was  not  time  enough  for  a  formal  speech.  At 
Utica  the  train  stopped  only  for  a  few  minutes,  then 
went  on  to  Albany.  Here  a  huge  procession  met  and 
escorted  the  President-elect  to  the  State  House.  At 
Troy  a  large  reception  was  ready  for  him.  Hurried 
through  Hudson  he  had  time  for  a  few  words  only. 
Poughkeepsie  and  Peekskill  offered  more  receptions 
and  speeches.  He  reached  New  York,  thoroughly  tired 
out,  at  3  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  All  business  ceased 
for  the  day  and  crowds  turned  out  to  block  Broadway 
in  a  jammed  effort  to  get  a  glimpse  of  Lincoln  as  he 
made  his  way  to  the  Astor  House.  Here  he  bowed  to 
the  multitudes  from  a  balcony  but  there  is  small  won- 
der that  he  was  too  exhausted  to  attempt  a  speech. 

Going  on  to  Trenton,  Lincoln  was  met  by  a  delega- 
tion from  the  Legislature  and  accompanied  to  the  State 
House,  when  he  made  another  speech  in  which  he  said, 
"May  I  be  pardoned  if  upon  this  occasion  I  mention 
that  away  back  in  my  childhood,  the  earliest  days  of  my 


LINCOLN  GOES  TO  WASHINGTON      263 

being  able  to  read,  I  got  hold  of  a  small  book — Weem's 
Life  of  Washington. 

"I  remember  the  accounts  given  there  of  the  battle- 
fields and  struggles  for  the  liberties  of  the  country  and 
none  fixed  themselves  upon  my  imagination  so  deeply 
as  the  struggle  here  at  Trenton,  N.  J.  I  recollect  think- 
ing then,  boy  even  though  I  was,  that  there  must  have 
been  something  more  than  common  that  these  men 
struggled  for." 

Thus  on  the  way  to  his  inauguration  there  recurred 
to  Lincoln's  mind  the  picture  of  the  country  boy  de- 
lighted with  the  rain- warped,  mud-stained  book  (earned 
from  "Old  Blue  Nose"  Crawford),  which  had  encour- 
aged in  him  the  stirring  determination  to  do  something 
in  his  life  beside  split  rails,  grub  roots  and  shuck  corn! 

From  Trenton  he  went  on  to  Philadelphia  which  he 
reached  in  the  midst  of  the  patriotic  celebration  of 
Washington's  birthday  and  was  "invited  to  raise  the 
flag  over  Independence  Hall,  where  the  famous  Declara- 
tion was  first  published  to  the  world." 

Such  a  spot,  reminiscent  of  the  Fathers  of  the  Con- 
stitution, could  not  fail  to  bring  forth  his  sentiments  in 
a  speech  on  the  significance  of  our  national  liberty. 
He  linked  the  principle  of  the  Revolution  to  the  pend- 
ing Southern  crisis  in  these  strangely  prophetic  words. 

"Now,  my  friends,  can  this  country  be  saved  upon 
that  basis?  (Liberty  to  all  people  of  the  country  for 
all  time.) 

"If  it  can,  I  shall  consider  myself  one  of  the  happiest 
men  in  the  world  if  I  can  help  to  save  it.  If  it  cannot 
be  saved  upon  that  principle  it  will  be  truly  awful.  But 
if  this  country  cannot  be  saved  without  giving  up  this 


264    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

principle,  I  was  about  to  say  I  would  rather  be  assassi- 
nated on  this  spot  than  surrender  it.  I  have  said  noth- 
ing but  what  I  am  willing  to  live  by,  and  if  it  be  the 
pleasure  of  Almighty  God,  to  die  by." 

The  gruesome  reason  for  these  weirdly  significant 
words  lay  in  the  knowledge  that  he  already  stood  in  the 
shadow  of  assassination.  In  spite  of  the  fact  that  he 
was  twice  warned  in  Philadelphia  of  a  plot  to  murder 
him,  he  proceeded  to  keep  appointments  in  Harris- 
burg.  Here,  Robert,  in  charge  of  the  special  satchel 
which  carried  his  father's  inaugural  address,  put  the 
party  to  quite  a  fright.  He  suddenly  discovered  that 
he  had  mislaid  the  bag  and  its  precious  contents.  He 
could  not  remember  what  he  had  done  with  it,  but 
thought  vaguely  that  he  had  handed  it  to  a  waiter  at 
the  hotel.    The  waiter  knew  nothing  of  the  bag. 

Lincoln  was  sick  at  heart.  He  had  prepared  his 
address  in  Springfield  in  a  room  over  a  store,  using  for 
reference  Henry  Clay's  great  Compromise  Speech  of 
1850,  Andrew  Jackson's  Proclamation  Against  Nulli- 
fication, Webster's  Reply  to  Hayne,  and  the  American 
Constitution.  He  had  kept  no  duplicate  notes,  and 
now,  ten  days  before  the  inauguration,  with  no  time 
left  to  prepare  another  speech,  the  manuscript  was 
gone. 

Finally  the  hotel  brought  forth  from  the  baggage 
room  a  satchel  which  Lincoln  thought  he  recognized. 
The  key  fitted!  But  the  bag  contained  only  a  soiled 
shirt,  some  paper  collars,  and  a  bottle  of  whiskey! 
Shortly  after  this  disappointment,  however,  the  right 
bag  with  the  precious  speech  in  it  was  discovered  in 
another  pile  of  luggage. 


LINCOLN  GOES  TO  WASHINGTON      265 

Lincoln  told  his  friends  that  it  reminded  him  of 
the  man  who  lost  $1,500  in  a  bank  failure,  receiving 
back  $150.  This  he  deposited  in  another  bank  in 
which  he  had  great  confidence.  Soon  that  also  failed, 
and  he  received  $15  of  his  savings.  Ruefully  looking 
at  the  remnants  of  his  $1,500,  he  said,  "Anyhow,  con- 
found it,  now  I've  got  you  in  portable  form,  I  can  put 
you  in  my  pocket.', 

So  Lincoln  now  buttoned  his  inaugural  address  into 
his  inside  pocket  for  safe-keeping. 

And  now  comes  the  final  event  of  the  trip — a  dra- 
matic and  ominous  incident  which  made  it  suddenly 
necessary  for  Lincoln  to  change  cars  secretly  at  night 
and  enter  the  Capital  by  stealth  before  daybreak. 

Lincoln  tells  of  this  in  his  own  words : 

"Mr.  Judd,  a  warm  personal  friend  of  mine  from 
Chicago,  sent  for  me  to  come  to  his  room  (at  the  Con- 
tinental Hotel,  Philadelphia,  February  21st).  I  went, 
and  found  there  Mr.  Pinkerton,  a  skillful  police  detec- 
tive, also  from  Chicago,  who  had  been  employed  for 
some  days  in  Baltimore  watching  or  searching  for  sus- 
picious persons  there.  Pinkerton  informed  me  that  a 
plan  had  been  laid  for  my  assassination,  the  exact  time 
when  I  expected  to  go  through  Baltimore  being  publicly 
known.  He  was  well  informed  of  the  plan,  but  did 
not  know  that  the  conspirators  would  have  pluck  enough 
to  execute  it.  He  urged  me  to  go  right  through  with 
him  to  Washington  that  night.  I  didn't  like  that.  I 
had  made  engagements  to  visit  Harrisburg  and  go 
from  there  to  Baltimore,  and  I  resolved  to  do  so.  I 
could  not  believe  that  there  was  a  plot  to  murder  me. 

"I  made  arrangements,  however,  with  Mr.  Judd  for 


266    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

my  return  to  Philadelphia  the  next  night  if  I  should 
be  convinced  that  there  was  danger  in  going  through 
Baltimore.  I  told  them  that  if  I  should  meet  at  Harris- 
burg,  as  I  had  at  other  places,  a  delegation  to  go  on 
with  me  to  the  next  place  (Baltimore)  I  should  feel 
safe  and  go  on.  When  I  was  making  my  way  back  to 
my  room,  through  crowds  of  people,  I  met  Frederick 
Seward.  We  went  together  to  my  room  when  he  told 
me  he  had  been  sent  at  the  instance  of  his  father  and 
General  Scott,  to  inform  me  that  their  detectives  in 
Baltimore  had  discovered  a  plot  there  to  assassinate 
me.  They  knew  nothing  of  Mr.  Pinkerton's  move- 
ments. I  now  believed  such  a  plot  to  be  in  existence." 
The  next  events  are  traced  tersely  in  the  following 
letter  of  record : 

"Allan  Pinkerton,  Esq., 
"Chicago,  111. 

"Yours  of  the  6th  inst.  rec'd.  I  am  informed  that  a 
son  of  a  distinguished  citizen  of  Maryland  said  he 
had  taken  an  oath  with  others  to  assassinate  Mr. 
Lincoln  before  he  gets  to  Washington,  and  they  may 
attempt  to  do  it  while  he  is  passing  over  our  road.  I 
think  you  had  better  look  out  for  this  man  if  possible. 
This  information  is  perfectly  reliable.  I  have  nothing 
more  to  say  at  this  time.  I  shall  try  and  see  you  in  a 
few  days. 

"On  the  night  of  the  22d  of  February,  1861,  Mr. 
Kenny  and  yourself  met  Mr.  Lincoln  at  the  West  Phil- 
adelphia depot,  and  took  him  in  a  carriage  over  to  the 
Philadelphia,    Wilmington    and    Baltimore    Railroad 


LINCOLN  GOES  TO  WASHINGTON      267 

depot.  Mr.  Lincoln  took  a  berth  in  the  sleeping  car 
and  at  n  P.  M.  the  train  left  for  Washington.  I 
met  you  in  our  depot  at  Baltimore,  went  into  the  sleep- 
ing car  and  whispered  in  your  ear  'all  is  right/  which 
seemed  to  be  welcome  news  to  you — it  certainly  was  to 
me.  Mr.  Lincoln  arrived  in  Washington  without  even 
the  officers  of  the  train  knowing  he  was  aboard. 

"(Signed)  Wm.  Stearns, 
"(Master  Machinist  of  the  Phila.,  Wilmington  &  Bal- 
timore R.  R.)." 

Though  other  cities  had  accorded  enthusiastic  recep- 
tions all  along  the  way,  the  President-elect  entered  the 
Nation's  Capital  as  quietly  as  any  ordinary  traveler 
and  his  arrival  was  marked  by  no  triumphal  entry  at  all. 

Telegraph  climbers  had  been  ordered  to  cut  all  wires 
leading  out  of  Harrisburg  and  hold  them  severed  until 
Lincoln  arrived,  unannounced,  in  Washington.  In  this 
way  not  even  those  in  authority  knew  when  to  expect 
him.  In  the  meantime,  official  Washington,  expectant 
and  anxious,  cut  off  from  all  communication  with  the 
President's  party,  fearfully  awaited  the  outcome  of 
plot  and  journey. 

"On  the  afternoon  of  the  23rd  of  February,  Mr. 
Seward  came  to  my  seat  in  the  House  of  Representa- 
tives" (relates  Elihu  B.  Washburne),  "and  told  me 
he  had  no  information  from  his  son  or  any  one  else 
in  respect  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  movements,  and  that  he 
could  have  none  as  the  wires  were  all  cut,  but  he 
thought  it  very  probable  he  would  arrive  on  the  reg- 
ular train  from  Philadelphia,  and  he  suggested  that  we 


268    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

meet  in  the  depot  to  receive  him.  We  were  promptly  on 
hand ;  the  train  arrived  on  time,  and  with  strained  eyes 
we  watched  the  descent  of  the  passengers. 

"But  there  was  no  Mr.  Lincoln  among  them.  Though 
his  arrival  was  by  no  means  certain,  yet  we  were  much 
disappointed.  As  there  was  no  telegraphic  communi- 
cation it  was  impossible  for  us  to  have  any  information. 
It  was  no  use  to  speculate.  Sad,  disappointed,  and 
under  the  empire  of  conflicting  emotions,  we  separated 
to  go  to  our  respective  homes;  but  agreeing  to  be  at 
the  depot  on  the  arrival  of  the  New  York  train  the 
next  morning  before  daylight,  hoping  either  to  meet 
the  President  or  get  information  as  to  his  movements. 

"I  was  on  hand  in  season,  but  to  my  great  disap- 
pointment Governor  Seward  did  not  appear. 

"I  planted  myself  behind  one  of  the  great  pillars  in 
the  old  Washington  and  Baltimore  depot,  where  I  could 
see  and  not  be  observed.  Presently  the  train  came 
rumbling  in  on  time.  It  was  a  moment  of  great  anx- 
iety to  me. 

"As  I  have  stated,  I  stood  behind  the  pillar  awaiting 
the  arrival  of  the  train.  When  it  came  to  a  stop  I 
watched  with  fear  and  trembling  to  see  the  passengers 
descend.  I  saw  every  car  emptied  and  there  was  no 
Mr.  Lincoln.  I  was  well-nigh  in  despair,  when,  about 
to  leave,  I  saw  slowly  emerge  from  the  last  sleeping  car 
three  persons.  I  could  not  mistake  the  long,  lank  form 
of  Mr.  Lincoln,  and  my  heart  bounded  with  joy  and 
gratitude. 

"He  had  on  a  soft,  low-crowned  hat,  a  muffler  around 
his  neck  and  a  short  bob-tailed  overcoat.    Any  one  who 


LINCOLN  GOES  TO  WASHINGTON      269 

knew  him  at  that  time  could  not  have  failed  to  recognize 
him  at  once. 

'The  only  persons  who  accompanied  him  were  Pink- 
erton,  the  well-known  detective,  and  Ward  H.  Lamon. 
When  they  were  fairly  on  the  platform  and  a  short 
distance  from  the  car,  I  stepped  forward  and  accosted 
the  President: 

"  'How  are  you,  Lincoln  ?'  " 

"At  this  unexpected  and  rather  familiar  salutation 
the  gentlemen  were  apparently  somewhat  startled,  but 
Mr.  Lincoln,  who  recognized  me,  relieved  them  at  once 
by  remarking  in  his  peculiar  voice : 
"  'This  is  only  Washburne !' 

"Then  we  all  exchanged  congratulations  and  walked 
out  to  the  front  of  the  depot  where  I  had  a  carriage 
in  waiting.  Entering  the  carriage  (all  four  of  us) 
we  drove  rapidly  to  Willard's  Hotel,  entering  on  14th 
Street,  before  it  was  fairly  daylight.  The  porter 
showed  us  into  a  little  receiving  room  at  the  head  of 
the  stairs,  and  at  my  direction  went  to  the  office  to 
have  Mr.  Lincoln  assigned  a  room. 

"We  had  not  been  in  the  hotel  more  than  two  min- 
utes before  Governor  Seward  hurriedly  entered,  much 
out  of  breath  and  somewhat  chagrined  to  think  he  had 
not  been  up  in  season  to  be  at  the  depot  on  the  arrival 
of  the  train.  The  meeting  of  these  two  great  men, 
under  the  extraordinary  circumstances  which  sur- 
rounded them,  was  full  of  emotion  and  thankfulness." 
Thus,  all  unheralded,  Lincoln  entered  the  Capital  to 
begin  a  stormy  term,  in  early  morning  secrecy  before 
the  sun  rose. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 
war! 

At  noon,  on  March  4th,  1861,  President  Buchanan 
called  at  Willard's  Hotel  to  escort  the  President-elect 
to  the  Capitol  to  succeed  him  to  office.  Entering  a 
carriage  the  two  drove  "up  the  Avenue* '  along  that 
historic  route  of  procession  traversed  by  all  victorious 
troops  and  by  nearly  every  President  since  Thomas 
Jefferson. 

The  Pennsylvania  Avenue  of  Lincoln's  time,  how- 
ever, was  very  different  from  to-day.  It  was  lined 
then  by  only  a  few  low  buildings  separated  by  stretches 
of  vacant  lots.  The  western  approach  of  the  Capitol 
facing  the  then  unfinished  Monument,  did  not  present 
in  1 86 1  the  stately  aspect  familiar  on  picture  postals 
to-day.  As  Lincoln's  inaugural  procession  approached, 
the  huge  building  rose  before  them  unfinished,  with 
cranes,  scaffold,  ropes  and  hoists  about  the  dome  which 
was  then  under  construction. 

As  the  Presidential  parade  advanced,  rumbling  over 

the  old  Avenue's  cobblestones,  the  way  was  ominous 

with  precaution  against  assassination.    The  curbs  were 

lined  with  soldiers,  mounted  guards   stood  at  every 

street  corner,  cavalrymen  preceded  and  followed  the 

President's  carriage  which  riflemen  accompanied  and 

which  was  hemmed  in  so  closely  by  a  strong  bodyguard 

that  sightseers  craned  their  necks  in  vain  to  catch  a 

270 


WAR!  271 

satisfactory  glimpse  of  the  new  executive.  So  forti- 
fied against  any  attempt  at  assassination  was  the  entire 
line  of  march  that  sharpshooters  were  even  posted  all 
along  the  way  on  housetops ! 

Reaching  the  north  entrance  safely,  Mr.  Buchanan 
and  Mr.  Lincoln  entered  the  guarded  Capitol  arm  in 
arm  through  a  long  wooden  tunnel  set  up  for  protec- 
tion. The  strangely  contrasted  pair  thus  entered  the 
Senate  chamber,  Buchanan,  a  shriveled  little  man  bent 
with  age,  Lincoln,  towering  immensely  lank  and  tall 
beside  him.  Within  the  Senate,  dignitaries  lined  up 
for  the  procession  leading  out  to  the  inaugural  plat- 
form erected  on  the  Capitol's  east  portico.  Preceded 
by  the  Justices  of  the  Supreme  Court,  in  all  the  cere- 
mony of  cap  and  gown,  the  Presidential  party  moved 
solemnly  outside  into  view  of  the  sea  of  faces  upturned 
from  the  multitudes  packing  the  eastern  plaza. 

Lincoln  was  introduced  by  his  friend,  Edward  D. 
Baker,  once  member  of  the  old  Sangamon  "Long  Nine," 
now  Senator  from  Oregon;  the  Baker  who  was  so 
close  a  friend  of  the  Lincolns  that  their  little  son, 
Eddie,  had  been  named  for  him.  Behind  on  the  plat- 
form sat  Chief  Justice  Taney  of  Dred  Scott  fame, 
ready  to  administer  the  Presidential  oath;  Stephen  A. 
Douglas,  Lincoln's  long-standing  rival;  and  Mrs. 
Lincoln  who  at  last  found  herself  really  the  wife  of 
the  President  of  the  United  States. 

After  Baker's  introduction,  Lincoln  took  the  ros- 
trum for  the  inaugural  address,  his  manuscript  in  one 
hand  and  his  high  silk  hat  in  the  other.  There  was  a 
moment  of  awkward  hesitation  as  Lincoln  looked  help- 
lessly about  for  a  place  to  put  his  hat  and  then  his  old 


272    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

antagonist,  Douglas,  saved  the  day  by  stepping  grace- 
fully forward  and  taking  it,  whispering  with  a  smile  to 
Mrs.  Lincoln,  "If  I  can't  be  President,  at  least  I  can 
hold  his  hat!"  It  is  to  be  remarked  that  for  the  rest 
of  his  life,  which  abruptly  ended  two  months  later, 
Stephen  A.  Douglas  remained  Lincoln's  staunch  loyal 
supporter. 

The  inaugural  address  had  one  theme :  preservation 
of  the  Union. 

"I  have  no  purpose  to  interfere  with  slavery  in  the 
states  where  it  exists,  I  believe  I  have  no  lawful  right 
to  do  so;  and  I  have  no  inclination  to  do  so,"  he  as- 
sured the  South. 

As  for  disunion,  he  maintained  that  the  Union  simply 
could  not  separate. 

"In  your  hands,  my  dissatisfied  fellow  countrymen, 
and  not  in  mine  is  the  momentous  issue  of  Civil  War," 
he  cried. 

By  this  speech  he  announced  his  stand  which  he 
hoped  might  avert  war,  but  the  subsequent  affair  at 
Fort  Sumter,  precipitating  it,  is  too  well  known  to  need 
dissertation  here.  The  inauguration  took  place  in 
March,  and  by  the  middle  of  April  the  country  was 
plunged  into  war. 

By  the  18th  of  April  an  alarm  spread  that  a  large 
force  of  Confederates  was  descending  upon  Washing- 
ton and  forthwith  people  began  to  flee  the  city.  Men 
who  had  to  remain  hastily  packed  off  their  wives  and 
children  to  safety  farther  north.  Mrs.  Lincoln  was 
urged  to  take  her  boys  and  go,  too,  but  she  retorted 
with  spirit:  "I  am  as  safe  as  Mr.  Lincoln  and  I  shall 
not  leave  him."     Out  went  the  President's  call   for 


WAR! 


273 


75,000  volunteers,  and  there  followed  anxious  days  and 
nights  in  which  the  President,  fearful  lest  the  country 
would  not  respond,  paced  the  floor  in  agony  and  prayer, 
murmuring,  "Why  don't  they  come !  Why  don't  they 
come!"  And  then,  suddenly  they  did  come,  flocking 
from  every  nook  and  corner  of  every  state,  thousands 
more  than  had  been  called  for.  The  tramping  of  feet 
through  Washington  sounded  to  the  volunteers'  tri- 
umphant song, 

"We  are  coming,  Father  Abraham,  a  hundred  thou- 
sand strong." 

The  war  was  on! 

Lincoln's  famous  War  Cabinet,  chosen  in  an  effort 
to  harmonize  all  factions,  unfortunately  resulted  only 
in  friction.  This  handy  little  table  gives  a  bird's-eye 
view  of  the  irritable  cabinet  at  a  glance. 


William  H.  Seward 

New  York 

Sec'y  of  State 

Salmon  P.  Chase 

Ohio 

"      Treasury 

1.    Simon  Cameron 

Pa.    | 

Ohio/ 

2.   Edwin  M.  Stanton 

"      War 

Gideon  Welles 

Conn. 

"      Navy 

Caleb  Smith 

Ind. 

"      Interior 

1.   Edward  Bates 

Mo. 

} 

2.   James  Speed 

Kentucky 

Atty.  Gen'l 

1.    Montgomery  Blair 

Md.    \ 
Ohio  J 

2.   William  Dennison 

Post  M.  Gen'l 

That  we  may  realize  some  of  the  contentions  and 
internal  strife  that  Lincoln  had  to  put  up  with  in  his 
Cabinet  in  the  midst  of  the  distractions  of  War;  and 
that  these  characters  who  play  their  parts  throughout 
the  succeeding  pages  may  become  something  more  to 
the  reader  than  a  dull  list  of  names,  we  must  now  stop 


274    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

a  minute  for  some  personal  interviews  which  may  bring 
these  men  of  the  past  alive  again. 

Seward,  Chase,  Cameron  and  Bates  had  all  been  Re- 
publican candidates  who  ran  against  Lincoln  for  the 
Presidential  nomination.  Bates  and  Blair  were  chosen 
from  slave  states  (although  they  themselves  owned  no 
slaves) ,  to  balance  the  free  state  members.  Every  man 
in  this  Cabinet  privately  thought  that  he  was  greater 
than  the  awkward  Illinois  lawyer  who  chanced  to  be 
their  chief.  Lincoln  let  them  think  so,  but  there  was 
not  a  moment  from  the  first  that  he,  with  a  twinkle  in 
his  eye,  and  firm-set  jaw,  did  not  control  them  all. 

There  was,  in  fact,  a  popular  notion  that  the  polished 
and  sophisticated  Seward  would  be  the  real  "power 
behind  the  throne"  and  guide  the  national  policies  with 
Lincoln  as  a  mere  figurehead.  Nobody  believed  this 
any  more  firmly  than  Seward  himself.  His  presump- 
tion budded  early,  and  was  promptly  nipped.  No 
sooner  had  the  new  administration  got  under  way  than 
the  aggressive  Mr.  Seward  handed  the  President  a 
memorandum  headed  "Some  Thoughts  for  the  Presi- 
dent's Consideration."  This  was  one  of  the  most  as- 
tonishing suggestions  any  subordinate  ever  ventured 
to  make  to  his  superior. 

Seward  audaciously  began,  "We  are  at  the  end  of  a 
month's  administration  and  yet  without  a  policy  either 
foreign  or  domestic."  He  thereupon  urged  the  amaz- 
ing policy  of  distracting  the  country's  attention  from 
the  alarming  crises  of  slavery  and  secession  by  the  little 
diversion  of  declaring  war  on  all  Europe!  To  accom- 
plish this  he  tells  what  "I"  would  do.    He  says : 

"I   would   demand   explanations    from    Spain   and 


WAR !  275 

France,  energetically  at  once,  and  if  satisfactory  expla- 
nations are  not  received,  I  would  convene  Congress  and 
declare  war  against  them.  I  would  seek  explanations 
from  Great  Britain  and  Russia  and  send  agents  into 
Canada,  Mexico  and  Central  America  to  arouse  a 
vigorous  spirit  of  Continental  independence  on  this 
continent  against  European  intervention." 

At  the  very  moment  that  this  hysterical  advice  was 
being  given  the  President,  the  Southern  Confederacy 
was  established  and  all  Europe  would  have  jumped  at 
a  chance,  for  trade  reasons,  to  aid  it.  This  hornets' 
nest  could  have  been  tumbled  down  all  too  easily.  But 
this  was  not  all.  Mr.  Seward  dictatorially  concluded 
his  amazing  advice  in  this  fashion : 

"But  whatever  policy  we  adopt,  there  must  be  an 
energetic  prosecution  of  it. 

"For  this  purpose  it  must  be  somebody's  business  to 
pursue  and  direct  it  incessantly. 

"Either  the  President  must  do  it  himself  and  be  all 
the  while  active  in  it,  or  it  must  devolve  upon  some 
member  of  his  Cabinet. 

"It  is  not  in  my  special  province,  but  I  neither  seek 
to  evade  nor  assume  responsibility." 

Lincoln  quietly  disposed  of  this  matter  with  a  prompt 
letter,  the  substance  of  which  was  a  firm  "If  this  be 
done,  I  must  do  it." 

Two  months  later  Mr.  Seward  wrote  instructions 
to  the  United  States  Minister  to  England  which,  if 
sent,  would  surely  have  meant  war.  Lincoln  changed 
the  document  wisely  and  as  he  sat,  head  on  hand, 
poring  over  the  manuscript  he  murmured  to  himself, 
"One  war  at  a  time — one  war  at  a  time." 


276    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

So  much  for  Seward. 

When  Lincoln's  friends  called  his  attention  to  the 
way  Chase,  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  was  advancing 
his  own  political  career  at  the  expense  of  the  Adminis- 
tration, Lincoln  simply  said: 

"I  have  determined  so  far  as  possible  to  shut  my  eyes 
to  everything  of  the  sort.  Mr.  Chase  makes  a  good 
Secretary,  and  I  shall  keep  him  where  he  is.  If  he 
becomes  President,  all  right.  I  hope  we  may  never 
have  a  worse  man.  I  am  entirely  indifferent  to  his  suc- 
cess or  failure  in  these  schemes,  so  long  as  he  does 
his  duty  at  the  head  of  the  Treasury  Department." 

When  Henry  J.  Raymond,  the  famous  editor,  com- 
plained of  Chase's  Presidential  aspirations,  Lincoln 
summed  the  matter  up  in  one  of  his  characteristic 
homely  stories:  "Raymond,"  he  said,  "you  were 
brought  up  on  a  farm  and  know  what  a  'chin  fly'  is. 
My  brother  and  I  were  once  plowing  corn  on  a  farm, 
I  driving  the  horse  and  he  holding  the  plow.  The 
horse  was  lazy,  but  on  one  occasion  rushed  across  the 
field  so  that  I  with  my  long  legs  could  scarcely  keep 
pace  with  him.  On  reaching  the  end  of  the  furrow  I 
found  an  enormous  'chin  fly'  fastened  upon  the  horse 
and  I  knocked  it  off.  My  brother  asked  me  what  I 
did  that  for.  I  told  him  I  didn't  want  the  old  horse 
bitten.  'Why/  said  my  brother,  'that's  all  that  made 
him  go!' 

"Now,  if  Mr.  Chase  has  a  Presidential  'chin  fly' 
biting  him,  I'm  not  going  to  knock  it  off  if  it  will  only 
make  his  Department  go!" 

Secretary  Chase  offered  and  withdrew  his  resignation 
once  too  often,  for  Lincoln  surprised  him  and  the  whole 


WAR!  277 

country  by  accepting  it  one  day  in  1864.  Soon  after- 
wards he  nominated  Chase  for  Chief  Justice  to  fill  the 
place  of  Judge  Taney,  who  had  died. 

Cameron  became  obnoxious  to  the  public  through  a 
War  Department  scandal  connected  with  the  letting  of 
war  contracts,  and  Lincoln  put  him  neatly  out  of  the 
way  by  a  transfer  to  the  office  of  Minister  to  Russia. 
The  War  Secretaryship  he  filled  by  the  appointment  of 
his  old  enemy,  the  disdainful  Edwin  M.  Stanton,  who 
on  their  first  encounter  in  early  law  practice  had  re- 
marked acidly  on  Lincoln  as  a  "long,  lank  creature 
from  Illinois,  wearing  a  dirty  linen  duster."  Although 
the  feeling  between  them  was  even  now  far  from  ami- 
able and  was  ever  destined  to  be  marked  by  some 
brusqueness,  nevertheless  Lincoln  swallowed  his  own 
rancor  and  chose  Stanton  because  he  recognized  Stan- 
ton's thorough  capability  for  the  trying  office.  Stanton 
was  destined  to  take  a  change  of  base  before  the  end 
of  the  administration.  Naturally  considerable  surprise 
was  evinced  at  this  appointment  and  when  some  one 
speaking  of  it,  asked  Stanton,  "What  will  you  do?" 
he  arrogantly  replied,  "I  will  make  Abe  Lincoln  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States." 

He,  like  Seward,  felt  that  the  country  was  safe  with 
his  hands  on  the  wheel!  Lincoln's  friends  grumbled 
that  "Stanton  would  run  away  with  the  whole  concern." 
At  this  Lincoln  only  smiled  and  was  "reminded  of  a 
little  story." 

"We  may  have  to  treat  him,"  he  laughed,  "as  they 
sometimes  have  to  treat  a  Methodist  preacher  I  know 
out  West.  He  gets  wrought  up  to  so  high  a  pitch  of 
excitement  in  his  prayers  and  exhortations  that  they 


278    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

have  to  put  bricks  in  his  pockets  to  keep  them  down. 
We  may  be  obliged  to  serve  Stanton  the  same  way,  but 
I  guess  we'll  let  him  jump  awhile  first." 

Although  Stanton  was  afterwards  one  of  the  sin- 
cerest  mourners  at  Lincoln's  death  bed  in  1865,  it  was 
he  who  wrote  in  1861,  "No  one  can  imagine  the  de- 
plorable condition  of  this  city,  and  the  hazard  of  the 
government  who  did  not  witness  the  weakness  and 
panic  of  the  administration  and  the  painful  imbecility 
of  Lincoln."  Moreover,  in  open  hostility,  he  referred 
to  the  President  as  a  "low,  cunning  clown,"  and  spoke 
of  him  as  "the  original  gorilla."  In  fact  he  used  to 
say  that  Du  Chaillu  was  a  fool  to  go  all  the  way  to 
Africa  to  find  a  gorilla  when  he  could  easily  see  one 
in  Washington.  Words  could  hardly  be  stronger  or 
more  contemptuous  than  these !  And  yet  Lincoln  was 
wise  enough  and  tolerant  enough  to  put  up  with  such 
a  man  for  the  sake  of  his  recognized  ability. 

Stanton  was  an  excitable,  explosive  soul  and  noth- 
ing is  funnier  than  his  dignified  assertion,  "I  have  al- 
ways tried  to  be  calm."  One  of  his  explosions  occurred 
when  old  Dennis  Hanks  was  sent  to  Washington  to  in- 
fluence his  cousin,  the  President,  to  release  some  Sang- 
amon men  who  had  been  jailed  as  "copperheads."  Den- 
nis spent  some  time  at  the  White  House  and  both  he 
and  "Abe"  enjoyed  talking  over  old  times  and  the 
log  cabin  days  they  had  shared.  As  a  souvenir  of  the 
visit  Lincoln  presented  his  old  playmate  with  a  watch 
which  Dennis  cherished  all  the  days  of  his  life.  As 
for  his  mission,  Lincoln  said,  "I  will  send  for  Mr. 
Stanton.    That  is  his  business." 

Stanton  burst  tempestuously  into  the  room  raging 


WAR!  279 

that  he  would  not  let  the  men  go ;  they  deserved  a  worse 
punishment  than  they  got !  Lincoln  waited  for  his  heat 
to  cool  and  then  said  quietly,  "Let  me  have  the  papers 
to-morrow."  Stanton  stamped  fuming  from  the  room 
and  as  the  door  crashed  behind  him,  Dennis  said : 

"Abe,  if  I  was  as  big  and  ugly  as  you,  I  would  put 
that  feller  across  my  knee  and  spank  him." 

"No,  Dennis,  I  can't  do  that,"  Lincoln  answered;  "he 
is  a  valuable  and  able  man  and  I  am  willing  to  endure 
his  temper  for  the  service  he  gives  the  Nation." 

That  Lincoln  thoroughly  understood  the  irascible 
Stanton  and  knew  how  to  humor  him  is  shown  in  count- 
less anecdotes  of  the  President's  tact  in  skillful  han- 
dling of  the  uncordial  War  Secretary.  In  none  perhaps 
does  this  come  out  better  than  in  the  following:  An 
important  order  of  the  President's  was  handed  Stanton 
one  day  and  he  refused  point  blank  to  comply  with  it. 

"If  Lincoln  gave  you  that  order,"  roared  the  hot- 
headed Secretary,  "he  is  a  damned  fool." 

The  Committee  Chairman  who  presented  the  order, 
thus  repulsed,  trotted  back  to  Lincoln. 

"Did  he  say  I  was  a  damned  fool?"  Lincoln  asked. 

"Yes,  he  did." 

"Well,  if  Stanton  says  I  am  a  damned  fool,  I  must 
be  one,  for  he  is  nearly  always  right!  I'll  just  step 
over  and  see  him."  The  President  "stepped"  and  got 
what  he  wanted. 

It  can  be  seen  that  Stanton  was  no  easy  man  to 
work  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  throughout  the  per- 
plexities of  war! 

Secretary  Welles,  on  the  other  hand,  was  a  quiet  and 
agreeable  man,  distinguished  by  being  the  only  member 


280    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

who  did  not  habitually  oppose  Lincoln  and  who  re- 
peatedly refused  to  sign  Cabinet  protests  because  "they 
would  be  discourteous  to  the  President.,,  He  carried 
on  his  work  quietly  and  competently,  and  except  for 
Seward,  was  the  only  man  left  of  the  original  Cabinet 
when  the  second  inaugural  came  around.  Smith,  Sec- 
retary of  the  Interior,  was  also  a  silent  partner.  The 
Cabinet  kept  falling  to  pieces  and  was  changed  about, 
not  from  any  sudden  revision,  but  from  internal  dis- 
integration. Bates,  Attorney-General,  tired  of  his  office 
and  resigned.  James  Speed,  brother  to  old  Josh  Speed, 
Lincoln's  bedfellow  and  confidant,  ably  filled  his  place. 
Blair  (it  is  interesting  to  note  that  Montgomery  Blair, 
Postmaster  General,  had  been  counsel  for  the  slave  in 
the  famous  Dred  Scott  case),  however,  after  a  violent 
personal  dispute  with  Fremont,  which  took  such  a 
serious  political  turn  that  he  shifted  from  the  Repub- 
lican to  the  Democratic  party,  became  so  bitterly  op- 
posed by  the  Republicans  that  Lincoln  was  obliged, 
reluctantly,  to  let  him  go. 

These  were  the  men  Lincoln  often  had  to  contend 
with  when  he  should  have  been  able  to  depend  on  them 
for  loyal  support  and  unity  of  purpose. 

To  add  to  the  rest  of  the  friction,  General  George 
B.  McClellan,  first  of  the  unsuccessful  Commanders, 
proved  particularly  disappointing. 

Mrs.  Lincoln  had  a  quicker  insight  into  the  charac- 
ters of  people  than  her  husband.  She  followed  all  the 
President's  affairs  with  close  interest,  and  proved  her- 
self very  shrewd  and  farsighted  in  her  comments.  She 
had  little  patience  with  her  husband's  mildness  and  his 


WAR!  281 

long-suffering  attitude  roused  her  often  to  snappish- 
ness.  She  was  especially  caustic  in  her  remarks  about 
Mr.  Seward.  She  said,  "I  wish  you  wouldn't  rely  on 
that  man  so  much,  I  tell  you  he  is  not  to  be  trusted!" 
To  which  Lincoln  only  replied  good-humoredly,  "Why, 
you  say  the  same  thing  of  Chase,  and  if  I  listen  to  you 
I  will  soon  be  without  any  Cabinet  at  all  !" 

"Better  be  without  one,  then,  than  confide  in  the  one 
you  have !"  she  snapped  back.  In  regard  to  Mr.  Chase, 
Mrs.  Lincoln's  intuition  proved  more  accurate  than  the 
President's  own.  She  had  ever  held  that  he  was  a 
"selfish,  contriving  politician,"  and  always  warned 
Lincoln  not  to  trust  him  too  far. 

When  war  broke,  Lincoln  made  a  master  stroke  in 
offering  command  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  to  a 
West  Pointer  and  Colonel  of  Engineers,  a  Virginian 
who  had  already  made  his  mark  in  service  in  the  Mexi- 
can War,  at  various  posts,  and  among  other  things,  in 
the  capture  of  John  Brown.  This  man  was  Robert  E. 
Lee.  Lincoln's  offer,  tendered  Lee  through  Francis  P. 
Blair,  (the  Postmaster  General's  brother),  threw  the 
peace-loving  Virginian  into  a  quandary.  The  story 
goes  that  all  night  long  he  paced  the  floor  of  his  Arling- 
ton home,  struggling  with  his  conscience  and  his  in- 
clinations and  praying  for  guidance  in  decision.  His 
decision  and  his  reasons  for  it  cannot  be  told  by  any  one 
else  so  well  as  by  himself.  He  said  that  if  he  owned 
"all  the  negroes  in  the  South  he  would  gladly  yield 
them  up  for  the  preservation  of  the  Union,"  but  he 
could  not  fight  against  his  native  state.  He  refused 
Lincoln's  offer,  and  of  this  refusal  wrote  his  sister: 


282    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

"The  whole  South  is  in  a  state  of  revolution  into 
which,  after  a  long  struggle,  Virginia  has  been  drawn ; 
and  though  I  recognize  no  necessity  for  this  state  of 
things,  and  would  have  forborne  and  pleaded  to  the 
end  for  redress  of  grievances  real  or  supposed,  yet  in 
my  own  person  I  had  to  meet  the  question  whether  I 
should  take  part  against  my  native  state.  With  all  my 
devotion  to  the  Union,  and  the  feeling  of  loyalty  and 
duty  of  an  American  citizen,  /  have  not  been  able  to 
make  up  my  mind  to  raise  my  hand  against  my  rela- 
tives, my  children,  my  home.  I  have  therefore  resigned 
my  commission  in  the  army." 

To  his  official  resignation,  dated  April  20,  1861, 
Colonel  Lee  added  the  following  personal  note  to  Gen- 
eral Winfield  Scott: 

"This  would  have  been  presented  at  once  but  for  the  1 
struggle  it  has  cost  me  to  separate  myself  from  a  service 
to  which  I  have  devoted  the  best  years  of  my  life,  and 
all  the  ability  I  possessed.  During  the  whole  of  that 
time — more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century — I  have  ex- 
perienced nothing  but  kindness  from  my  superiors  and 
a  most  cordial  friendship  from  my  comrades.  To  no 
one,  General,  have  I  been  as  much  indebted  as  to  your-  ; 
self  for  your  uniform  kindness  and  consideration  and 
it  has  always  been  my  ardent  desire  to  merit  your  ap- 
probation. I  shall  carry  to  the  grave  the  most  grateful 
recollections  of  your  kindness  and  your  name  and  fame 
will  always  be  dear  to  me." 

On  the  same  day  Lee  wrote  to  his  brother : 


WAR!  283 

"After  the  most  anxious  inquiry  as  to  the  correct 
course  for  me  to  pursue,  I  concluded  to  resign  and  sent 
in  my  resignation  this  morning.  I  wished  to  wait  till 
the  ordinance  of  secession  should  be  acted  upon  by 
the  people  of  Virginia  but  war  seems  to  have  com- 
menced, and  I  am  liable  at  any  time  to  be  ordered  on 
duty  which  I  could  not  conscientiously  perform.  To 
save  me  from  such  a  position  and  to  prevent  the  neces- 
sity of  resigning  under  orders,  I  had  to  act  at  once.  I 
am  now  a  private  citizen  and  have  no  other  ambition 
than  to  remain  at  home.  Save  in  defense  of  my  native 
State,  I  have  no  desire  ever  again  to  draw  my  sword." 

In  place  of  such  a  man,  the  command  of  the  Union 
Army  went  to  George  B.  McClellan,  whom  we  have 
met  before  as  Vice-President  of  the  Illinois  Central 
Railroad,  conducting  Stephen  A.  Douglas  in  special 
trains  to  the  debates. 

McClellan,  like  Seward  and  Stanton,  felt  that  he 
alone  could  save  the  country  and  that  Lincoln  was 
fortunate  to  have  him  to  call  upon!  'The  people  call 
upon  me  to  save  the  country,"  he  wrote  his  wife  im- 
portantly. "I  must  save  it  and  cannot  respect  any- 
thing that  is  in  the  way.  The  President  cannot  or 
will  not  see  the  true  state  of  affairs."  "I  am  becoming 
daily  more  disgusted  with  this  administration — per- 
fectly sick  of  it.  I  was  obliged  to  attend  a  Cabinet 
meeting  at  8  A.  M.  and  was  bored  and  annoyed.  There 
are  some  of  the  greatest  geese  in  the  Cabinet  I  have 
ever  seen — enough  to  tax  the  patience  of  Job." 

McClellan,  however,  liked  to  prate  of  ' 'saving  the 
country,"  better  than  he  liked  action.    During  the  time 


284    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

Cameron  was  War  Secretary,  his  inactivity,  exasper- 
ating in  the  very  face  of  the  swiftly  massing  Confed- 
erates, was  enough  to  try  the  patience  not  alone  of  Job, 
but  of  the  long  suffering  President  himself.  McClel- 
lan,  "Little  Mac,"  as  he  was  called,  was  little  in  more 
than  name,  and  he  failed  to  see  that  Abraham  Lincoln 
was  big  in  something  more  than  body.  As  time  went 
by,  McClellan's  contempt  of  the  President  became  so 
marked  that  he  actually  allowed  the  Chief  Executive 
to  cool  his  heels  waiting  in  an  ante-room  while  the  self- 
important  little  General  took  his  own  time  about  other 
business,  and  one  night  he  even  went  to  bed  leaving  the 
President  of  the  United  States  waiting  for  him  down- 
stairs. 

In  spite  of  this,  Lincoln  was  patient  enough  to  say, 
4iI  will  hold  McClellan's  horse  if  he  will  only  bring  us 
success." 

But  as  precious  time  slipped  away  and  still  "Little 
Mac"  had  accomplished  nothing,  and  despondency  sank 
like  fog  over  the  Union,  Lincoln  began  to  show  im- 
patience. "I  wonder  whether  McClellan  means  to  do 
anything !"  he  exclaimed.  "I  should  like  to  borrow  the 
army  of  him  a  day  or  two !" 

It  was  about  this  time  that  the  fiery  Stanton  came 
into  office  and  the  sparks  began  to  fly  instantly  between 
him  and  the  General.  McClellan,  adopting  a  policy 
of  "masterly  inactivity"  that  made  "all  quiet  along  the 
Potomac,"  a  bitter  by-word,  seemed  possessed  by  the 
hallucination  that  the  enemy  overwhelmed  him  in  num- 
bers. He  therefore  did  nothing  but  drill  and  dig  him- 
self into  the  elaborate  entrenchments  that,  as  engineer, 
were  his  specialty.  Behind  these  he  held  his  men  in- 
active, calling  imperatively  all  the  .time  for  more  and 


WAR!  285 

more  troops  like  the  elephant  that  cried,  "More  hay! 
more  hay  I"  until  Lincoln  said  with  a  grim  smile,  "Mc- 
Clellan  is  a  good  engineer,  but  he  has  a  special  genius 
for  the  stationary  engine !"  If  "Little  Mac"  had  only 
known  that  the  Confederates  numbered  but  81,000  in- 
stead of  200,000,  he  might  have  evinced  more  activity, 
but  as  it  was,  he  kept  on  complaining  of  his  inferior 
numbers  until  Lincoln  wrote,  "Your  dispatches  com- 
plaining that  you  are  not  properly  sustained,  pain  me 
very  much,"  and  he  later  added  in  sarcasm  which  passed 
over  the  General's  head,  "If  at  any  time  you  feel  able 
to  take  the  offensive,  you  are  not  restrained  from 
doing  so." 

As  for  Stanton,  he  characteristically  declared  that  if 
McClellan  "had  a  million  men  he  would  swear  that 
the  enemy  had  two  million  and  then  he  would  sit  down 
in  the  mud  and  yell  for  three!" 

In  spite  of  these  criticisms,  it  must,  in  fairness,  be 
admitted  that  McClellan  was  a  genius  at  organizing 
raw  recruits  into  a  well-drilled  body,  and  he  was  very 
popular  with  his  soldiers. 

Toward  the  end  of  December  McClellan  fell  ill, 
and  the  long-hoped-for  offensive  had  to  be  postponed 
until  he  recovered.  Taking  matters  into  his  own  hands 
then,  Lincoln  decided  to  study  military  tactics  himself. 
Thus  far  he  had  gone  on  the  conclusion  that  as  he  had 
once  said  of  grammar,  "He  did  not  know  the  first 
thing  about  it,"  but  when  it  dawned  on  him  that 
those  supposed  to  know  the  subject  accomplished  little, 
he  put  his  mind  to  the  matter  and  night  and  day  con- 
centrated upon  the  military  situation,  studying  strategi- 
cal works,  maps,  diagrams  and  reports,  with  all  the  old- 
time  vigor  that  years  before  had  marked  his  application 


286    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

to  the  study  of  grammar  and  surveying.  After  long 
conferences  with  the  country's  leading  military  and 
naval  men,  Lincoln  began  to  be  well  qualified  to  criti- 
cize and  direct  McClellan.  This  he  proceeded  to  do, 
and  in  January  exercised  his  first  authority  as  Com- 
mander-in-Chief of  the  Army  and  Navy  by  ordering 
"a  general  movement  of  land  and  naval  forces  against 
the  insurgents.,,  McClellan  simply  ignored  this,  and 
offered  instead  his  own  plan.  Lincoln's  grasp  of  the 
situation  is  plain  enough  from  the  letter  he  wrote  in 
reply : 

"You  and  I  have  distinct  and  different  plans  for  a 
movement  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac;  yours  to  be 
down  the  Chesapeake,  up  the  Rappahannock  to  Urbana 
and  across  land  to  the  terminus  of  the  railroad  on  York 
River;  mine  to  move  directly  to  a  point  southwest  of 
Manassas. 

"If  you  will  give  me  satisfactory  answers  to  the  fol- 
lowing questions,  I  shall  gladly  yield  my  plan  to  yours. 

"i.  Does  not  your  plan  involve  a  greatly  larger  ex- 
penditure of  time  and  money  than  mine  ? 

"2.  Wherein  is  victory  more  certain  by  your  plan 
than  mine? 

"3.  Wherein  is  victory  more  valuable  by  your  plan 
than  mine? 

"4.  In  fact,  would  it  not  be  less  valuable  in  this, 
that  it  would  break  no  great  line  of  the  enemy's  com- 
munications while  mine  would? 

"5.  In  case  of  disaster  would  not  a  safe  retreat  be 
more  difficult  by  your  plan  than  mine  ? 

"Yours  truly, 

"A.  Lincoln." 


WAR!  287 

In  this  Lincoln  revealed  himself  a  better  chessman 
than  his  Major  General.  McClellan,  in  spite  of  this, 
took  no  action.  Meanwhile,  by  a  brilliant  series  of 
moves,  Robert  E.  Lee  was  leading  the  Army  of  North- 
ern Virginia  into  positions  of  critical  advantage.  Forc- 
ing McClellan's  hand,  he  pressed  him  hard  at  Manas- 
sas and  Antietam. 

The  breach  broadened  between  McClellan  and  the 
Administration,  and  McClellan  in  private  letters  spoke 
in  such  scurrilous  terms  of  Lincoln  and  Stanton  as 
"treacherous  hounds"  and  of  the  Capital  as  a  "sink 
of  iniquity."  Knowledge  of  his  attitude,  leaking  out, 
began  his  undoing.  After  infinite  patience  Lincoln 
saw  fit  to  remove  McClellan  from  command  and 
afterwards  the  President  confided  in  his  old  partner, 
Judge  Herndon,  "back  home"  that  McClellan  re- 
minded him  of  a  cock  fight  he  saw  once  in  New  Salem. 
A  much  bragged-of  rooster  proved  a  failure  in  the 
ring,  but  began  to  crow  and  strut  about  outside  it. 
The  disgusted  owner  picked  up  the  little  fowl,  growl- 
ing, "Yes,  you  little  cuss,  you're  great  in  dress  parade, 
but  you  ain't  worth  a  darn  in  a  fight!" 

Lincoln  had  kept  in  touch  with  McClellan  in  the 
field,  often  visiting  him  in  his  tent  and  thus  keeping  a 
shrewd  eye  on  the  situation.  McClellan  did  not  rec- 
ognize the  President's  purpose  on  these  visits  and 
wrote  home  to  his  wife  complaining  impatiently  that 
he  had  to  hide  to  avoid  being  interrupted  by  the  Presi- 
dent, Stanton  or  Seward  who  often  hung  about  head- 
quarters and  took  up  his  time  even  when  they  had 
"nothing  particular  to  say."  At  last  one  day,  when 
Lincoln  with  his  friend,  General  Frank  Blair  (the 
Blair  who  had  tendered  Lincoln's  offer  to  Robert  E. 


288    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

Lee),  were  at  headquarters,  McClellan  handed  him  a 
letter  containing  a  savage  attack  upon  Stanton.  After 
reading  this,  without  a  word,  Lincoln  rose  and  left  the 
tent.  Depressed  by  a  realization  of  the  complications 
now  of  the  political  as  well  as  the  military  situation, 
Lincoln  strode  on  in  silence  for  some  time.  Finally 
he  addressed  Blair: 

"Frank,  I  understand  the  man  now.  That  letter  is 
McClelland  bid  for  the  Presidency.  I  will  stop  that 
game.  Now  is  the  time  to  issue  the  Proclamation  eman- 
cipating the  slaves." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

EMANCIPATION 

For  a  long  time  Lincoln  had  held  the  idea  of  "com- 
pensated emancipation/*  that  is,  he  proposed  to  have 
the  Government  buy  all  slaves,  and  free  them,  thereby 
saving  the  economic  situation  from  being  thrown  out  of 
joint  as  would  surely  happen  if  slave  owners  were  sud- 
denly dispossessed  of  their  property.  He  had  first 
advanced  this  plan  back  in  his  days  as  Congressman 
when  he  drew  up  his  resolution  to  have  the  Government 
pay  a  fair  price  for  all  slaves  in  the  District  of  Colum- 
bia and  give  them  liberty.  This  failed,  but  he  still 
clung  to  the  plan. 

On  becoming  President,  he  tried  again,  this  time  with 
Delaware.  Delaware  was  still  a  slave  state  but  as  there 
were  only  1798  slaves  left  in  it,  this  seemed  a  good 
place  to  try  out  the  scheme.  So,  without  publicly  an- 
nouncing the  matter,  he  offered  the  citizens  of  Dela- 
ware, through  their  representatives  in  Congress,  $400 
apiece  for  each  of  their  slaves  on  a  time  payment  plan 
that  would  allow  the  Government  some  years  to  finance 
it  without  difficulty.  Lincoln  hoped  that  if  Delaware 
adopted  this,  Maryland  would  follow  suit  and  prove  the 
key  to  gradual  emancipation  throughout  the  South. 
Unfortunately  Delaware  scornfully  spurned  the  idea 
as  an  "abolition  bribe/'  and  the  situation  remained 
deadlocked. 

Undismayed  at  the  Delaware  failure,  Lincoln  next 

289 


290    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

hopefully  made  a  public  appeal  through  Congress  in 
a  resolution  "that  the  United  States  cooperate  with  any- 
State  which  may  adopt  gradual  abolishment  of  slavery, 
giving  to  such  State  pecuniary  aid  to  be  used  to  compen- 
sate the  inconveniences,  public  and  private,  produced 
by  such  change  of  system.,, 

Lincoln  believed  that  he  had  no  legal  right  to  stop 
slavery  willy  nilly  in  States  where  it  was  lawful,  for 
he  had  sworn  to  "preserve,  protect,  and  defend  the 
law"  and  slavery  was  lawful  in  the  South.  But  he 
thought  that  in  this  way  a  perfectly  just  settlement 
might  be  gradually  made,  and  he  added,  "Gradual,  not 
sudden,  emancipation,  in  my  judgement,  is  better  for 
all.  Such  a  proposition,"  he  went  on,  "on  the  part  of 
the  general  Government  sets  up  no  claims  of  a  right  by 
Federal  authority  to  interfere  with  slavery  within  State 
limits,  referring,  as  it  does,  the  absolute  control  of  the 
subject  in  each  case  to  the  State  and  its  people  immedi- 
ately interested.  It  is  proposed  as  a  matter  of  perfectly 
free  choice  to  them. 

"The  Union  must  be  preserved  and  hence  all  indis- 
pensable means  must  be  employed.  War  has  been  made 
and  continues  to  be  an  indispensable  means  to  this  end. 
Upon  acceptance  of  this  national  plan  of  emancipation 
the  war  could  end  at  once." 

But  the  nation  balked  at  this  plan.  Excuse  was  made 
that  it  was  "too  expensive"    Lincoln  retorted : 

"Less  than  one  half -day's  cost  of  this  war  would 
pay  for  all  the  slaves  in  Delaware  at  $400  per  head. 
Less  than  87  days'  cost  of  this  war  would  at  the  same 
price  pay  for  all  in  Delaware,  Maryland,  District  of 
Columbia,  Kentucky  and  Missouri." 


EMANCIPATION  291 

But  the  war  was  to  drag  on  four  long  years  more. 
His  scheme  was  "too  expensive  T 

And  still  he  was  not  discouraged.  He  tried  again, 
this  time  negotiating  with  the  South  direct.  On  Feb- 
ruary 3,  1865,  as  he  said  afterwards,  "Seward  and  I 
had  a  little  expedition  of  our  own."  The  President 
and  Secretary  of  State  went  to  Hampton  Roads  and 
held  a  conference  on  board  their  steamer  with  the  Con- 
federate Vice-President  and  Secretary  of  War.  Al- 
though this  "little  expedition' '  came  to  nothing,  the 
meeting  was  a  pleasant  one.  The  Confederate  Vice- 
President  was  Alexander  H.  Stephens,  former  Gov- 
ernor of  Georgia,  who  had  done  his  best  to  prevent 
his  State's  secession. 

Alexander  H.  Stephens  was  a  broad-minded  man, 
and  a  good  friend  of  Lincoln's  before  the  War  when 
both  were  Congressmen.  In  those  days  Lincoln  had 
written  home  to  Mr.  Herndon,  his  law  partner,  "Dear 
William:  I  just  take  up  my  pen  to  say  that  Mr. 
Stephens,  a  little,  slim,  pale-faced  consumptive  man, 
has  just  made  the  very  best  speech  of  an  hour's  length 
I  ever  heard."  Recalling  these  old  friendly  congres- 
sional days,  Lincoln  greeted  Stephens  cordially  and  re- 
marked, as  the  little  Georgian  removed  a  huge  coat  and 
enormous  muffler,  "Well,  well,  well,  Stephens,  I  never 
saw  a  smaller  nubbin  come  out  of  so  much  husk !" 

The  discussion  turned  seriously  upon  emancipation 
and  its  difficulties  were  referred  to.  Stephens  said, 
"What  will  become  of  negro  women  and  children  and 
the  old  infirm  slaves,  if,  as  you  propose,  they  are 
turned  loose  upon  their  own  resources  ?"  To  this  Lin- 
coln, unwilling  to  commit  himself  entirely,  replied  that 


292    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

he  could  only  think  of  an  Illinois  farmer  who  raised 
hogs  successfully  and  when  asked  how  he  did  it  replied, 
"I  just  turn  'em  out  of  the  pens  and  it's  root,  hog,  or 
die."  As  a  matter  of  fact  this  was  exactly  what  did 
happen  to  the  freed  slaves  in  the  end,  despite  the  empty 
promises  of  carpet-baggers  that  they  should  all  have 
"forty  acres  and  a  mule  apiece."  After  much  argu- 
ment pro  and  con,  Lincoln  showed  a  blank  sheet  of 
paper  and  pleaded,  "Stephens,  let  me  write  'Union* 
fat  the  top  of  that  page  and  you  may  write  below  it\ 
anything  else  you  please." 

"Union"  was  not  written  and  Lincoln  went  home 
despondently  with  a  copy  of  this  resolution  untouched 
in  his  pocket:  that  four  hundred  million  dollars  be 
appropriated  by  Congress  to  buy  up  all  the  slaves. 
Against  this  resolution  his  whole  Cabinet  took  a  stub- 
born stand  save  Mr.  Seward,  so  Lincoln  gave  up  hope- 
lessly saying: 

"Gentlemen,  how  long  is  the  War  going  to  last?  It 
will  not  end  in  less  than  a  hundred  days,  will  it?  It 
costs  now  four  millions  a  day.  That  is  four  millions 
above  the  loss  of  life  and  property.  But  you  seem  to 
be  against  it,  so  I  will  not  urge  this  matter  further." 

There  were  four  million  slaves  in  the  country  at  this 
time. 

Curiously  enough,  while  the  "land  of  the  free"  was 
at  war  over  emancipation,  Alexander  II,  Czar  of  dark 
Russia,  freed  twenty-three  million  Russian  serfs  with- 
out the  shedding  of  one  drop  of  blood.  Strangely, 
too,  Alexander,  the  Emancipator,  like  Lincoln,  died 
by  an  assassin's  hand. 

As  for  making  a  proclamation  of  emancipation,  for 


EMANCIPATION  293 

a  long  while  Lincoln  insisted  that  the  time  was  "not 
yet  ripe  for  it." 

Unnumbered  were  the  hasty  enthusiasts  who  kept 
urging  him  to  it.  In  September,  1862,  a  whole  dele- 
gation of  Chicago  ministers  called  upon  him  and  vehe- 
mently demanded  that  he  make  the  proclamation. 
They  declared  that  he  had  been  elected  to  free  the 
slaves  and  that  he  must  do  so,  and  "do  it  now." 
Handling  this  delegation  tactfully,  Lincoln  asked  this 
pointed  question:  "Now,  gentlemen,  if  I  cannot  en- 
force the  Constitution  down  South,  how  am  I  to  en- 
force a  mere  Presidential  proclamation?" 

As  the  Chicago  ministers  turned  to  go  away,  one, 
more  aggressive  than  the  rest,  came  back  and  said, 
"What  you  have  said  to  us,  Mr.  President,  compels 
me  to  say  in  reply,  that  it  is  a  message  to  you  from 
our  Divine  Master,  through  me,  commanding  you,  sir, 
to  open  the  doors  of  bondage  that  the  slave  may  go 
free!" 

Instantly  Lincoln's  repartee  shot  back:  "If  it  is,  as 
you  say,  a  message  from  our  Divine  Master,  is  it  not 
odd  that  the  only  channel  he  could  send  it  to  me  by 
was  the  roundabout  route  by  way  of  that  awful  wicked 
city  of  Chicago?" 

At  another  time  still  another  deputation  called  to 
importune  immediate  freeing  of  the  slaves,  and  to  them 
Lincoln  said,  "If  I  issue  a  proclamation  now,  as  you 
suggest,  it  will  be  ineffectual.  It  cannot  be  enforced. 
Now,  by  way  of  illustration,  how  many  legs  will  a 
sheep  have  if  you  call  his  tail  a  leg?" 

"Five,"  they  all  answered  promptly.  "You  are  all 
mistaken,"    said    Lincoln,    tripping    them    up    good- 


294.    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

naturedly  to  illustrate  his  point,  "for  calling  a  tail  a 
leg  does  not  make  it  one,  and  calling  the  slaves  free 
will  not  make  them  so." 

On  the  subject  of  the  freedom  of  the  slaves  Lincoln 
studied,  pondered  and  prayed,  as  he  said  wearily,  "night 
and  day  for  weeks  and  weeks  and  months  and  months. " 
After  the  actual  Proclamation  was  made  and  toward 
the  end  of  the  war  he  called  General  Butler  to  him 
and  said: 

"General  Butler,  I  am  troubled  about  the  negroes. 
We  are  soon  to  have  peace.  We  have  some  one  hun- 
dred odd  thousand  negroes  trained  to  arms.  When 
peace  comes  I  fear  these  colored  men  may  organize 
themselves  in  the  South  into  guerilla  parties  and  we 
shall  have  warfare  down  there  between  whites  and 
negroes.  In  the  course  of  reconstruction  it  will  be- 
come a  question  how  the  negro  can  be  disposed  of. 
Would  it  be  possible  to  export  them  to  some  place, 
say  Liberia,  or  South  America,  and  organize  them  into 
communities  to  support  themselves?  Now,  General, 
I  wish  you  would  examine  the  practicability  of  such 
exportation.  .  .  .  Will  you  give  this  your  attention, 
and  at  as  early  a  day  as  possible  report  to  me  your 
views  ?" 

"Willingly,"  replied  the  General,  who  then  bowed 
and  retired.  Some  time  later  he  returned  and  re- 
ported : 

"Here  are  some  calculations  which  show  that  if  you 
undertake  to  export  all  of  the  negroes,  negro  children 
will  be  born  here  faster  than  your  whole  naval  and 
merchant  vessels,  if  all  were  devoted  to  that  use,  can 
carry  them  out  of  the  country." 


EMANCIPATION  295 

"He  examined  my  tables  carefully  for  a  considerable 
time,"  said  the  General,  "and  then  looked  up  sadly  and 
said,  'Your  deductions  seem  correct,  but  what  can 
we  do?'" 

Liberia  (the  name  means  "Freedom" )"  is  a  negro 
republic  on  the  coast  of  West  Africa,  which  was 
founded  in  1822  by  American  philanthropists  for  freed 
slaves  who  wished  to  return  to  their  native  Africa  or 
to  enjoy  political  and  social  privileges  denied  them  in 
the  United  States.  For  twenty-five  years  it  remained 
under  the  tutelage  of  the  United  States  government, 
but  in  1847  was  declared  independent.  It  has  never 
proved  any  more  popular  with  our  home  negroes  than 
Palestine  promises  to  be  with  the  Jews.  Nevertheless, 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  this  colonization  plan  was  not 
particularly  successful,  it  was  not  wholly  abandoned. 

It  was  one  morning  in  June,  1862,  that  Lincoln 
began  the  first  draft  of  the  immortal  Proclamation. 
Sitting,  as  he  often  did,  at  Major  Eckert's  desk  in  the 
cipher  room  of  the  War  Department  Telegraph  Office, 
he  asked  for  a  piece  of  paper  to  "write  something 
special."  He  was  handed  some  foolscap  and  one  of 
the  small  barrel  pens  supplied  the  cipher  operators  and 
with  these  he  slowly  began  to  write.  He  would  write 
a  few  lines,  and  then  look  thoughtfully  out  of  the 
window,  as  if  the  composing  were  either  tremendously 
important  or  else  very  hard.  The  whole  first  day  he 
worked  at  it  he  did  not  cover  one  sheet  of  the  paper. 
That  night  he  asked  the  Major  to  lock  up  the  paper, 
for  he  wished  no  one  to  see  it  before  it  was  complete. 
So  he  worked  for  several  weeks,  writing  slowly,  and 
revising  again  and  again.     Evidently  he  considered 


296    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

what  he  was  doing  one  of  the  most  momentous  things 
of  his  career. 

In  midsummer  of  1862  the  President  called  a  Cabinet 
meeting  and  placed  the  Proclamation  before  it.  He 
made  it  plain  that  he  had  decided  on  the  policy  and 
wished  suggestions  merely  as  to  subject  matter. 

Secretary  Seward  approved  of  the  proclamation  but 
questioned  the  wisdom  of  issuing  it  at  that  time  when 
the  North  had  suffered  so  heavy  reverses.  He  thought 
it  would  look  like  the  desperate  effort  of  a  dying  cause, 
and  a  cry  for  help,  as  if  in  its  extremity  the  North 
was  "stretching  forth  its  hands  to  Ethiopia,  instead  of 
Ethiopia  stretching  forth  her  hands  to  the  North.' ' 

Lincoln  believed  the  Secretary's  point  well  taken,  so 
he  put  aside  the  Proclamation  temporarily  waiting  for 
a  victory. 

But  things  looked  blacker  and  blacker.  Pope's  dis- 
aster at  Bull  Run  in  August  was  followed  by  the  battle 
of  Antietam.    He  could  wait  no  longer. 

On  September  22,  1862,  he  called  another  Cabinet 
meeting,  summoning  even  Secretary  of  War  Stanton, 
who  was  usually  excused  because  of  his  other  duties 
in  connection  with  the  war. 

When  the  men  were  gathered,  Lincoln  was  reading 
a  book  which  seemed  to  amuse  him. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "did  you  ever  read  anything 
from  Artemus  Ward?  Let  me  read  you  a  chapter 
which  is  very  funny." 

The  busy  Cabinet  members  thought  this  rather  mis- 
placed humor.  Not  one  of  them  smiled.  The  Secre- 
tary of  War  was  angry. 


EMANCIPATION  297 

Lincoln  read  on,  however,  to  the  chapter's  end,  and 
laughed  heartily.    Not  a  man  joined  him. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "let's  have  another  chapter !" 

Then  he  read  on  to  every  one's  amazement. 

Finally  he  threw  down  the  book  with  a  long  sigh, 
saying : 

"Gentlemen,  why  don't  you  laugh  ?  With  the  fearful 
strain  that  is  upon  me  day  and  night,  if  I  did  not 
laugh  I  should  die,  and  you  need  this  medicine  as 
much  as  I  do." 

Then  he  reached  for  his  tall  hat  and  pulled  a  little 
paper  from  its  lining.    He  continued : 

"Gentlemen,  I  have  called  you  here  upon  very  im- 
portant business.  I  have  prepared  a  little  paper  of 
much  significance.  I  have  made  up  my  mind  that  this 
paper  is  to  issue,  that  the  time  has  come  for  it  and 
that  the  people  are  ready  for  it." 

He  then  read  the  Emancipation  Proclamation,  that 
vital  document  which  declared  all  persons  held  as  slaves 
to  be  then,  henceforward,  and  forever  free ! 

The  Cabinet  members  rose,  moved  by  the  importance 
of  the  moment.  Secretary  Stanton  held  out  his  hand 
to  Lincoln,  and  said : 

"Mr.  President,  if  the  reading  of  chapters  of 
Artemus  Ward  is  a  prelude  to  such  a  deed  as  this,  the 
books  should  be  filed  among  the  archives  of  the  nation, 
and  the  author  should  be  canonized.  Henceforth  I 
see  light  and  the  country  is  saved." 

To  this  the  others  solemnly  said,  "Amen  I" 

The  Emancipation  Proclamation  was  formally  issued 
to  the  nation  on  New  Year's  Day,  1863.     Secretary 


298    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

Seward  and  his  son,  Frederick,  who  was  his  private 
secretary,  brought  the  final  draft  to  the  President  for 
signature  at  noon  and  as  Lincoln  took  up  the  pen  he 
made  several  aimless  gestures  with  his  wrist  before 
signing,  then  laid  down  his  pen  and  rubbed  his  fingers, 
explaining,  "I  have  been  shaking  hands  since  nine 
o'clock  this  morning  and  my  right  arm  is  almost  para- 
lyzed. If  my  name  ever  goes  into  history  it  will  be 
for  this  act,  and  my  whole  soul  is  in  it.  If  my  hand 
trembles  all  who  examine  the  document  hereafter  will 
say,  'He  hesitated/  " 

Flexing  his  cramped  fingers  several  times  the  Presi- 
dent finally  picked  up  the  pen  again  and  firmly  signed 
the  famous  "Abraham  Lincoln."  He  examined  it 
critically  and  then  looked  up  and  smiled. 

"That  will  do!"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

LINCOLN   AND  HIS   GENERALS 

The  over-cautious  McClellan  was  eventually  re- 
placed, to  Stanton's  relief,  by  Burnside. 

Ambrose  E.  Burnside,  a  close  friend  of  "Little 
Mac's,"  was  a  promising  West  Pointer,  38  years  old, 
capable  and  well  liked,  but  he  modestly  declared,  "I  am 
not  competent  to  command  such  a  large  army."  Events 
proved  him  correct.  He  was  succeeded  by  Joseph 
Hooker,  and  on  making  this  appointment  Lincoln 
wrote  Hooker: 

"I  have  placed  you  at  the  head  of  the  army  of  the 
Potomac.  Of  course  I  have  done  this  upon  what  ap- 
pear to  me  sufficient  reasons,  and  yet  I  think  it  best 
for  you  to  know  there  are  some  things  in  regard  to 
which  I  am  not  quite  satisfied  with  you.  I  believe  you 
to  be  a  brave  and  skillful  soldier,  which,  of  course,  I 
like.  I  also  believe  you  do  not  mix  politics  with  your 
profession  in  which  you  are  right.  You  have  con- 
fidence in  yourself  which  is  a  valuable  if  not  indispens- 
able quality.  You  are  ambitious,  which,  within  reason- 
able bounds  does  rather  good  than  harm,  but  I  think 
that  during  General  Burnside's  command  you  have 
taken  counsel  of  your  ambition  and  thwarted  him  as 
much  as  you  could,  in  which  you  did  a  great  wrong  to 
the  country  and  to  a  most  meritorious  and  honorable 
brother  officer.  I  have  heard,  in  such  a  way  as  to 
believe  it,  of  your  saying  that  both  the  Army  and  the 


300    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

Government  needed  a  dictator.  Of  course  it  was  not 
for  this,  but  in  spite  of  it  that  I  have  given  you  the 
command.  Only  those  generals  who  gain  successes  can 
set  up  dictators.  What  I  now  ask  of  you  is  military 
success  and  I  will  risk  the  dictatorship.  The  govern- 
ment will  support  you  to  the  utmost  of  its  ability,  which 
is  neither  more  nor  less  than  it  has  done  and  will  do  for 
all  commanders.  I  much  fear  that  the  spirit  which  you 
have  aided  to  infuse  into  the  army,  of  criticizing  their 
commander  and  withholding  confidence  from  him,  will 
now  turn  upon  you.  I  shall  assist  you  as  far  as  I  can  to 
put  it  down.  Neither  you  nor  Napoleon,  if  he  were 
alive  again,  could  get  any  good  out  of  an  army  while 
such  spirit  prevails  in  it.  And  now  beware  of  rashness. 
Beware  of  rashness,  but  with  energy  and  sleepless  vigi- 
lance go  forward  and  give  us  victories.,, 

The  most  striking  thing  about  this  letter  is  its  revela- 
tion of  the  President's  development  into  his  fullest 
power  as  a  self-possessed  ruler.  No  longer  a  mere 
awkward  country  man,  but  confident,  now,  and  sure  of 
himself,  Lincoln  had  risen  to  his  full  height  as  a  great 
statesman  and  showed  himself  not  hesitant  to  direct, 
command,  criticize  and  advise  constructively  and  im- 
peratively. 

Hooker,  however,  clashed  with  General  Halleck  and 
so  much  friction  ensued  within  the  army  that  Lin- 
coln at  last  took  Hooker  at  his  word  and  relieved  him 
of  command. 

Another  General  then  took  his  place  upon  the  war 
stage  before  the  eyes  of  a  discouraged  public. 

George  G.  Meade,  his  successor,  and  Hooker's  most 
caustic  critic,  took  office  at  the  crucial  period  when 


LINCOLN  AND  HIS  GENERALS  301 

Lee's  army  was  plowing  deep  into  Pennsylvania. 
Meade  cut  him  off  at  historic  Gettysburg  and  thus 
wrecked  the  Confederate  dream  of  seizing  Philadel- 
phia and  dictating  peace  at  old  Independence  Hall.  But 
the  victory  was  not  wholly  satisfactory,  for  it  was  not 
followed  up  and  Lee  skillfully  retired  across  the  Po- 
tomac, and  got  safely  away  when  he  was  for  a  moment 
in  the  very  clutches  of  the  Union  Army. 

In  the  intensity  of  his  disappointment  at  Meade's 
hesitation,  Lincoln  sat  down  and  wrote  this  criticism  to 
the  General: 

"You  fought  and  beat  the  enemy  at  Gettysburg  and 
of  course,  to  say  the  least,  his  loss  is  as  great  as  yours. 
He  retreated,  and  you  did  not  pursue  him.  A  flood  in 
the  river  detained  him  till  by  slow  degrees  you  were 
again  upon  him.  You  had  at  least  20,000  veteran 
troops  directly  with  you  and  as  many  more  raw  ones 
within  supporting  distance,  while  it  was  not  possible 
that  he  had  received  a  single  recruit,  and  yet  you  stood 
and  let  the  flood  run  down,  bridges  be  built,  and  the 
enemy  move  away  at  his  leisure  without  attacking  him. 
I  do  not  believe  you  appreciate  the  magnitude  of  the 
misfortune  involved  in  Lee's  escape.  He  was  within 
your  easy  grasp,  and  to  have  closed  upon  him  would, 
in  connection  with  our  other  late  successes  have  ended 
the  war.  As  it  is,  war  will  be  prolonged  indefinitely. 
If  you  could  not  safely  attack  Lee  last  Monday,  how 
can  you  possibly  do  so  south  of  the  river  when  you  can 
take  with  you  very  few  more  than  two-thirds  of  the 
force  you  then  had  in  hand  ?  It  would  be  unreasonable 
to  expect,  and  I  do  not  expect  that  you  can  now  effect 


302     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

much.    Your  golden  opportunity  is  gone,  and  I  am  dis- 
tressed immeasurably  because  of  it." 

On  second  thought  Lincoln  destroyed  this  letter,  in 
which  he  had  relieved  his  feelings,  without  ever  send- 
ing Meade  a  copy,  resolved  to  have  patience  and  offered 
the  commander  further  opportunity  without  criticism. 

The  Battle  of  Gettysburg  ended  on  the  Fourth  of 
July,  1863.  In  November  of  the  same  year  the  battle- 
field was  solemnly  dedicated  as  a  national  cemetery  and 
at  this  dedication  Lincoln  made  his  famous  Gettysburg 
address,  now  on  the  tongue  of  every  schoolboy. 
Strangely  enough  it  was  Hon.  Edward  Everett,  not 
Lincoln,  who  was  to  deliver  the  day's  oration.  The 
President  was  invited  to  be  present,  and  after  the  ora- 
tion, "as  Chief  Executive  of  the  Nation,  to  set  apart 
these  grounds  formally  to  their  sacred  use  by  a  few  ap- 
propriate remarks." 

An  advance  copy  of  the  long  Everett  oration  was 
handed  Lincoln  beforehand,  and  when  a  friend  laughed 
at  its  length,  Lincoln  smilingly  quoted  Daniel  Webster : 
"Solid  men  of  Boston  make  no  long  orations !"  As  for 
his  own  speech,  Lincoln  said  it  must  be  "short,  short, 
short!" 

He  wrote  it  out  on  a  sheet  of  White  House  sta- 
tionery which  he  tucked  in  his  pocket  for  the  trip  to 
Gettysburg,  not  at  all  satisfied  that  it  was  a  good  speech. 
Contrary  to  that  pretty  story,  A  Perfect  Tribute,  Lin- 
coln's Gettysburg  address  was  interrupted  again  and 
again  with  hearty  applause,  and,  as  has  been  said, 
it  is  indeed  an  "imperfect  tribute"  to  Lincoln  to  sup- 
pose he  was  the  man  to  grieve  at  lack  of  applause  "like 


LINCOLN  AND  HIS  GENERALS  303 

a  brooding  schoolgirl  on  graduation  day."  The  truly- 
perfect  tribute  was  rendered  by  the  hostile  Stanton, 
who  said  unreservedly,  "Everett  has  made  a  speech 
that  will  make  many  columns  in  the  newspapers  and 
Mr.  Lincoln's  perhaps  forty  or  fifty  lines.  Everett's  is 
the  speech  of  a  scholar,  polished  to  the  last  possibility. 
It  is  elegant  and  it  is  learned,  but  Lincoln's  speech  will 
be  read  by  a  thousand  men  where  one  reads  Everett's 
and  will  be  remembered  as  long  as  anybody's  speeches 
are  remembered  who  speaks  the  English  language." 

Meade's  failure  to  pursue  Lee  after  the  Battle  of 
Gettysburg  so  disheartened  Lincoln  with  the  lack  of 
progress  each  of  his  succeeding  generals  had  made, 
that,  completely  downcast,  he  read  Meade's  congratu- 
latory letter  to  the  troops  and  when  he  reached  the 
phrase  praising  them  on  "driving  the  invader  from  our 
soil"  he  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  cried  out  in 
anguish :  "Drive  the  invaders  from  our  soil!  My  God! 
is  that  all?" 

No  wonder  he  echoed  the  nation's  despairing  cry  for 
a  general :  "Give  us  a  man !"  At  that  moment  the  man, 
was  rising.  The  same  blood-stained  July  fourth  that 
had  seen  Gettysburg  brought  Lincoln  news  also  of 
triumph  at  Vicksburg  and  the  name  of  Ulysses  S.  Grant 
began  its  ascendancy.  While  Lincoln  was  in  despair  at 
the  hesitation  and  lack  of  decisive  offiensive  in  the  part 
of  his  other  generals,  Grant  wrote  his  curt  and  famous 
note  from  Fort  Donelson  to  the  Confederate  Com- 
mander : 

"No  terms  except  unconditional  and  immediate  sur- 
render can  be  accepted.  I  propose  to  move  immediately 
upon  your  works." 


304     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

The  force  of  these  ringing  words  brought  hope  in 
darkness  to  the  despairing  President.  Here  was  a 
man!  After  Grant's  victories  at  Donelson,  Vicksburg 
and  Chattanooga,  Lincoln  revived  the  rank  of  Lieu- 
tenant-General  conferred  only  twice  before  in  the  coun- 
try's history,  on  Washington  for  service  in  the  Revolu- 
tion and  on  Winfleld  Scott  for  his  Conquest  of  Mexico 
and  but  once  since,  upon  General  Pershing.  This  title 
was  then  conferred  upon  "Unconditional  Surrender" 
Grant. 

A  storm  of  protest  rose  from  the  country.  Delega- 
tions were  sent  to  the  President  urging  Grant's  dis- 
charge, but  Lincoln  was  satisfied  and  immovable.  "I 
can't  spare  this  man,"  said  he,  "he  fights!" 

When  one  committee  called  to  demand  Grant's  re- 
moval Lincoln  asked  on  what  grounds  they  asked  this, 
and  the  spokesman  replied : 

"Mr.  Lincoln,  you  as  a  teetotaler  would  be  distressed 
to  know  that  General  Grant  drinks." 

"Is  that  so!"  commented  the  President,  appearing 
dumfounded.  "Then  I  wish  you  would  find  out  what 
brand  of  whiskey  he  drinks  for  I  should  like  to  distrib- 
ute some  of  it  among  a  few  other  generals  I  know!" 
"Since  Grant  has  assumed  command  on  the  Potomac," 
said  Lincoln  with  a  deep  sigh  of  relief,  "I  have  made  up 
my  mind  that  whatever  is  possible  to  have  done,  Grant 
will  do,  and  whatever  he  doesn't  do,  I  don't  believe  is  to 
be  done,  and  now,"  he  added  earnestly,  "we  sleep  at 
night!" 

Grant's  plan  was  not  one  of  complicated  strategy. 
He  proposed  to  win  by  plain  hard  fighting.  As  soon 
as  he  took  command  he  sent  Meade  hotly  after  Lee  with 


LINCOLN  AND  HIS  GENERALS  305 

the  instruction:  "Where  Lee  goes,  there  you  will 
go  also."  In  answer  to  Sherman's  suggestion  that  he 
march  south  to  hem  the  Confederates  into  Grant's 
northern  onslaught,  the  Lieutenant-General  wired,  "Go 
on  as  you  propose."  It  was  in  the  spring,  1864,  in  ex- 
pressing his  policy  to  the  President  that  Grant  made  his 
celebrated  statement :  "I  propose  to  fight  it  out  on  this 
line  if  it  takes  all  summer'' 


PART   VI 
War  Times 

'Let  us  have  faith  that  Right  makes  Might: 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE   WAR   GRINDS  ON 

The  war  ground  on  and  Lincoln  was  battered  and 
buffeted  by  such  cruel  adverse  comment  from  people 
and  press  that  it  was  not  the  war  alone  which  cut  all 
those  deep  familiar  furrows  in  his  cheeks. 

No  less  person  than  James  Russell  Lowell  gave  vent 
to  this  sort  of  thing : 

"I  confess  that  my  opinion  of  the  government  does 
not  rise,  to  say  the  least.  If  we  are  saved  it  will  be 
God's  doing,  not  man's;  and  will  He  save  those  who 
are  not  worth  saving?  Lincoln  may  be  right,  for  aught 
I  know, — prudence  is  certainly  a  good  drag  upon  vir- 
tue. Mr.  Lincoln  seems  to  have  the  theory  of  carrying 
on  war  without  hurting  the  enemy.  He  is  incapable, 
apparently,  of  understanding  that  they  ought  to  be 
hurt!  The  doing  good  to  those  that  spitefully  treat  us 
was  not  meant  for  enemies  of  the  commonwealth.  The 
devil's  angels  are  those  that  do  his  work — for  such 
there  is  a  lake  of  fire  and  brimstone  prepared.  We  have 
been  undertaking  to  frighten  the  devil  with  cold  pitch." 

At  the  very  beginning  of  the  war  the  morale  of  the 
army  sank  so  low  as  to  be  well-nigh  demoralized.  An 
interviewer  who  was  investigating  the  charges  that 
desertion  was  rampant  in  the  Union  army  said  at  the 
time:  "I  shall  never  forget  the  shock  which  his  pres- 
ence gave  us.  Not  more  ghastly  nor  rigid  was  his  dead 
face  as  he  lay  in  his  coffin.    His  introverted  look  and 


310     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

his  half -staggering  gait  were  like  those  of  a  man  walk- 
ing in  sleep.  He  seemed  literally  bending  under  the 
weight  of  his  burdens.  .  .  . 

"  'I  have  no  encouragement  to  give/  was  his  sad  and 
blunt  reply.  The  fact  is,  people  haven't  yet  made  up 
their  minds  that  we  are  at  war.  They  haven't  buckled 
down  to  the  determination  to  fight.  They  think  there 
is  a  royal  road  to  peace.  The  army  has  not  settled 
down  to  the  conviction  that  we  are  in  a  terrible  war 
that  has  got  to  be  fought  out — no,  and  the  officers 
haven't  either.  There  are  whole  regiments  that  have 
two-thirds  of  their  men  absent — a  great  many  by 
desertion  and  a  great  many  on  leave  granted  by  com* 
pany  officers,  which  is  almost  as  bad.  General  McClel- 
lan  is  all  the  time  calling  for  more  troops  and  they 
are  sent  him  but  the  deserters  and  furlough  men  out- 
number the  recruits.  To  fill  up  the  army  is  like  under- 
taking to  shovel  fleas.  You  take  up  a  shovelful'  (suit- 
ing the  word  to  an  indescribably  comical  gesture)  'but 
before  you  can  dump  them  anywhere  they  are  gone!' 

"  'Do  you  mean  that  our  men  desert  ?'  we  asked  in- 
credulously, for  in  our  glorifying  of  the  soldiers  we 
had  not  conceived  of  our  men  becoming  deserters. 

"  'That  is  just  what  I  mean/  replied  the  President, 
'and  the  desertion  of  the  army  is  just  now  the  most 
serious  evil  we  have  to  encounter.  At  the  battle  of 
Antietam,  General  McClellan  had  the  names  of  about 
180,000  men  on  the  rolls.  Of  these  70,000  were  absent 
on  leave  granted  by  company  officers,  which,  as  I  said 
before,  is  almost  as  bad  as  desertion.  For  the  men 
ought  not  to  ask  for  furloughs  with  the  enemy  drawn 
up  before  them  nor  ought  the  officers  to  grant  them. 


THE  WAR  GRINDS  ON  311 

About  20,000  more  were  in  the  hospital  or  detailed 
to  other  duties,  leaving  only  some  90,000  to  give  battle. 
General  McClellan  went  into  the  fight  with  this  num- 
ber. But  in  two  hours  after  the  battle  commenced, 
30,000  had  straggled  or  deserted.  We  have  a  strag- 
glers' camp  out  here  in  Alexandria  and  from  that 
camp  in  3  months  General  Butler  has  returned  to  their 
regiments  75,000  deserters  and  stragglers  who  have 
been  arrested  and  sent  there.' 

"  'Is  not  death  the  penalty  of  desertion?' 

"  'It  certainly  is.' 

"  'And  does  it  not  lie  with  the  President  to  enforce 
this  penalty  ?' 

"  'Yes.' 

"  'Why  not  enforce  it  then?  Before  many  soldiers 
had  suffered  death  for  desertion  there  would  be  an 
end  to  this  wholesale  depletion  of  the  army.' 

"  'It  might  seem  so,  but  if  I  should  go  shooting  men 
by  the  scores  for  desertions,  I  should  have  such  a  hulla- 
baloo about  my  ears  as  I  haven't  had  yet,  and  I  should 
deserve  it.  You  can't  order  men  shot  by  the  dozens  or 
twenties.  People  won't  stand  it  and  they  ought  not  to 
stand  it.  No,  we  must  change  the  conditions  of  things 
in  some  other  way.'  " 

Had  Lincoln  but  known  it,  Lee,  later  on,  was  con- 
fronted by  the  same  problem  and  wrote  of  it  in  this 
letter  to  the  Governor  of  South  Carolina : 

"The  state  of  despondency  among  our  people  is  pro- 
ducing a  bad  effect  upon  the  troops.  Desertions  are 
becoming  very  frequent  and  there  is  good  reason  to 
believe  that  they  are  occasioned  to  a  considerable  ex- 


312     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

tent  by  letters  written  to  the  soldiers  by  their  friends 
at  home.  I  think  some  good  can  be  accomplished  by 
the  efforts  of  influential  citizens  to  change  public  senti- 
ment and  cheer  the  despondent  spirits  of  the  people.'* 

Lee,  too,  had  his  hours  of  criticism  and  despair. 
In  regard  to  the  caustic  comments  he  endured  from 
newspapers  he  wrote  whimsically,  "At  the  beginning  of 
the  war,  it  seems  that  all  the  poor  generals  were  put 
in  the  field  and  all  the  best  ones  made  editors  of  news- 
papers. I  do  the  best  I  can,  and  I  often  fail,  but  it 
seems  that  these  newspaper  generals  know  all  along 
what  I  should  have  done.  My  only  complaint  is  that 
they  never  tell  me  about  it  beforehand  when  it  will  do 
me  any  good.  They  only  mention  it  afterwards!  I 
shall  be  only  too  glad  to  resign  my  commission  in 
favor  of  some  of  these  superior  men  and  I  would  then 
try  to  serve  my  country  with  all  my  might  as  the  editor 
of  a  newspaper!" 

Lee,  like  Lincoln,  found  relief  in  humor  from  the 
constant  strain  he  was  under.  He  wrote  home,  for  in- 
stance, "My  coat  is  of  gray,  of  the  regulation  style  and 
pattern,  my  pants  of  dark  blue  as  is  also  prescribed, 
partly  hidden  by  my  long  boots.  I  have  the  same 
handsome  hat  which  surrounds  my  gray  head  (the 
latter  is  not  prescribed  in  the  regulations)  and  shields 
my  ugly  face,  which  is  masked  by  a  white  beard  as 
stiff  and  wiry  as  the  teeth  of  a  card.  In  fact,  an  uglieg 
figure  you  have  never  seen  and  so  unattractive  is  it  to 
our  enemies  that  they  shoot  at  it  whenever  it  is  visible 
to  them !" 

One  of  the  most  ironical  aspects  of  the  whole  war 


THE  WAR  GRINDS  ON  313 

is  connected  with  Robert  E.  Lee.  He  came  into  posses- 
sion of  a  number  of  slaves  from  his  father-in-law  who 
had  promised  them  that  after  a  certain  lapse  of  time 
they  should  all  go  free.  This  promise  was  made  years 
before  the  war.  The  appointed  time  came  due  during 
the  darkest  hour  of  the  war,  and  Robert  E.  Lee,  com- 
manding the  forces  fighting  and  dying  to  maintain 
the  right  to  slavery,  passed  his  slaves  through  his  own 
military  lines  and  sent  them  safely  on  to  the  North 
scot  free,  each  supplied  with  money  and  provisions. 

Such  glimpses  of  the  men  on  the  Southern  side  of 
the  Potomac,  only  add  to  the  sadness  of  the  war's 
tragedy,  by  the  evidence  it  gives  that  never  are  all  the 
men  on  one  side  wholly  good  and  those  upon  the  other 
unmitigated  villains  only.  Union  sympathizers  have 
grown  so  accustomed  to  thinking  of  their  cause  as 
righteous  that  they  rarely  realize  how  fearfully  they 
were  regarded  as  devastators,  bringers  of  agony  and 
destroyers  of  homes.  To  Southerners,  naturally,  Grant 
was  a  butcher  and  Sherman  a  robber-fiend.  One 
charming  lady  from  Virginia  declared  earnestly  that 
she  never  knew  until  she  was  quite  grown  up  that 
"damn-Yankee  was  not  all  one  word !"  It  was  Lincoln 
himself  who  considered  Stonewail  Jackson  his  ideal 
soldier  and  said  of  him,  "He  is  a  brave,  honest,  Pres- 
byterian soldier.  What  a  pity  that  we  should  have  to 
fight  such  a  gallant  fellow !  If  we  only  had  such  a  man 
to  lead  the  armies  of  the  North,  the  country  would  not 
be  appalled  by  so  many  disasters."  Jackson,  a  West 
Point  graduate,  had  been  a  quiet  and  retiring  man,  fond 
of  peace  and,  before  the  conflict,  devotedly  engaged, 
strange  as  it  may  seem,  to  a  Sunday  School  class  of 


314*    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

little  colored  children.  He  had  resigned  from  the  army 
after  the  Mexican  War,  and  was  professor  of  natural 
philosophy  at  the  Virginia  Military  Institute  when  the 
Civil  War  broke  out.  He  was  a  man  of  great  religious 
depths  and  his  soldiers  declared  they  could  always  tell 
when  a  big  battle  was  imminent  for  then  Jackson  re- 
mained long  in  his  tent  upon  his  knees  in  prayer.  When 
he  was  wounded,  and  Lee  put  in  his  place,  Lee  declared 
it  would  be  better  for  his  country  if  he  should  die  in- 
stead of  Jackson  for  Jackson's  death  would  mean  a 
greater  loss  to  the  Confederacy  than  a  defeat  in  battle. 
In  spite  of  fervent  prayers  of  his  most  devoted  friends 
and  followers,  Jackson  passed  out  of  the  storm  of 
warfare  with  these  last  beautiful  words  to  his  family: 
"Let  us  cross  over  the  river  and  lie  down  under  the 
trees  on  the  other  side."  So  passed  a  gentle  soul  bit- 
terly classed  as  "the  enemy." 

On  went  the  war  relentlessly,  and  when  asked  point 
blank  one  day  how  many  men  he  supposed  the  Con- 
federates had,  Lincoln  answered  with  remarkable 
promptness : 

"They  have  1,200,000  in  the  field." 

"Why,  can  that  be  possible !    How  do  you  know  r 

"Well,"  said  Lincoln  with  a  smile,  "every  Union 
General  I  ever  heard  tell  of  always  said  the  Rebels  out- 
numbered him  three  or  four  to  one.  Now  we  have 
about  400,000  men  and  three  times  that  number  makes 
1,200,000,  doesn't  it?" 

On  another  day  the  operators  in  the  Government 
telegraph  office,  receiving  details  of  a  slight  skirmish 
in  which  no  more  than  30  or  40  prisoners  were  taken, 
heard  the  President  say  drily,  "By  the  time  the  news- 


THE  WAR  GRINDS  ON  315 

papers  write  up  and  exaggerate  this  encounter  you  may 
be  sure  all  the  little  Colt  revolvers  will  have  grown  into 
horse  pistols!" 

This  twist  of  Lincoln's  humor  brightened  many  a 
black  hour.  His  stories,  however,  were  always  used  to 
make  some  definite  point,  and  never  merely  for  humor- 
ous pastime.  One  night,  when  slapped  too  familiarly 
upon  the  knee  by  a  presumptuous  young  man  who  re- 
marked cheerily,  "Mr.  President,  tell  us  one  of  your 
good  stories !"  the  President  drew  himself  up  with  dig- 
nity and  said : 

"I  believe  I  have  the  popular  reputation  of  being 
a  story  teller,  but  I  do  not  deserve  the  name  in  its 
general  sense,  for  it  is  not  the  story  itself,  but  its  pur- 
pose or  effect  that  interests  me.  I  often  avoid  a  long 
and  useless  discussion  by  others  or  a  laborious  explana- 
tion on  my  own  part  by  a  short  story  that  illustrates 
my  point  of  view.  So  too,  the  sharpness  of  a  refusal 
or  the  edge  of  a  rebuke  may  be  blunted  by  an  appro- 
priate story  so  as  to  save  the  wounded  feeling  and  yet 
serve  the  purpose.  No,  I  am  not  simply  a  story-teller, 
but  story-telling  as  an  emollient  saves  me  much  fric- 
tion and  distress." 

With  such  a  pointed  story  he  summed  up  the  foreign 
situation  which  was  perplexing  the  Cabinet  one  day 
when  Lincoln  began: 

"The  situation  reminds  me  of  a  fix  I  got  into  some 
thirty  years  ago  when  I  was  peddling  notions  on  the 
way  from  Indiana  to  Illinois.  We  came  across  a  small 
farmhouse  full  of  children  who  ranged  in  age  from 
17  years  all  the  way  down  to  17  months  old,  and  all 
were  in  tears.    The  mother  was  red-headed,  red-faced 


316     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

and  held  a  whip.  She  turned  on  me  and  said,  What  do 
you  want  ?'  I  saw  that  an  insurrection  had  taken  place 
and  been  quelled  and  it  was  no  place  for  me  to  offer 
notions  so  I  meekly  said,  'Nothing,  Ma'am,  I  only 
dropped  in  as  I  passed  along.'  She  said,  'Well,  you 
needn't  wait !  I  can  manage  my  own  family  rows  with- 
out the  help  of  any  outsiders.  I'll  teach  these  brats  their 
places  if  I  have  to  lick  the  hide  off  every  last  one  of 
them,  but  I  don't  want  no  outsider  sneaking  around 
trying  to  find  out  how  I  do  it  either/ 

"That's  the  case  with  us,"  said  the  President,  "we 
must  let  the  other  Nations  know  we  propose  to  settle 
our  own  family  rows  and  teach  these  brats  (the  seced- 
ing states)  their  places  if  we  have  to  'lick  the  hide* 
off  each  and  every  one  of  them  and  like  the  old  woman 
we  don't  want  any  outsiders  'sneakin'  'round'  and  look- 
ing on  while  we  are  doing  it,  either.  Now  then, 
Seward,  you  just  write  a  few  diplomatic  notes  to  that 
effect." 

Even  though  "outside  Nations"  were  kept  off,  the 
"family  row"  within  included  much  friction  in  the 
North  itself. 

To  a  delegation  of  Abolitionists,  headed  by  Wendell 
Phillips,  who  upbraided  Lincoln  impatiently  for  not 
immediately  carrying  out  the  principles  of  the  Procla- 
mation successfully  in  the  South,  Lincoln  said  bitterly, 
"It  has  been  very  rare  that  an  opportunity  of  running 
this  Administration  has  been  lost."  Mr.  Phillips 
patronizingly  said  that  Lincoln's  opportunity  for  re- 
election depended  on  whether  "we  see  the  Administra- 
tion earnestly  working  to  free  the  country  from  slavery 
and  its  rebellion."    As  if,  indeed,  Lincoln  were  idle  and 


THE  WAR  GRINDS  ON  317 

indifferent  to  this  matter  which  filled  his  whole  soul! 
Wearily  the  President  responded,  ''Oh,  Mr.  Phillips, 
I  have  ceased  to  have  any  personal  feelings  or  expecta- 
tions in  that  matter,  so  abused  and  borne  upon  as  I 
have  been!"  And  as  the  Abolitionists  went  away  Lin- 
coln's last  tired  words  to  them  in  dismissal  were:  "I 
must  bear  this  load  which  the  country  has  entrusted 
to  me  as  well  as  I  can  and  do  my  best." 

Not  even  Lincoln's  messages  to  Congress  were 
allowed  to  pass  uncriticized.  The  language  he  used 
was  objected  to  as  unconventional,  and  too  colloquial 
for  use  in  formal  State  papers.  At  the  suggestion  that 
they  be  rewritten  to  conform  more  closely  to  the  usual 
style,  he  replied  firmly,  "Let  them  stand  as  written. 
The  people  can  understand  that  language."  An  in- 
stance of  this  kind  appears  in  connection  with  a  sen- 
tence written  by  Lincoln  to  read,  "With  rebellion  thus 
sugar-coated  they  have  drugged  the  public  mind."  The 
Government  printer  complained  to  the  President  that 
a  message  to  Congress  was  a  different  thing  from  a 
stump  speech  to  countrymen,  and  that  as  these  mes- 
sages became  historical  documents  they  ought  to  be 
carefully  written. 

"Well,  what's  the  matter  now  ?"  Lincoln  asked. 

"You  have  used  the  undignified  phrase  'sugar- 
coated,'  "  said  the  printer,  "and  if  I  were  you  I  would 
change  it." 

"That  word  exactly  expresses  what  I  mean,"  Lin- 
coln replied,  "and  I  am  not  going  to  change  it.  The 
time  will  never  come  in  this  country  when  people  won't 
know  exactly  what  'sugar-coated'  means!" 


318     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

This  is  an  example  of  the  small  things  about  which 
the  President  was  continually  being  hectored. 

Such  rancor  rose  among  the  very  Cabinet  members 
that  for  over  a  year  Lincoln  avoided  contention  with 
them  by  simply  not  calling  any  Cabinet  meeting  at  all, 
in  which,  after  all,  he  found  Mrs.  Lincoln's  advice 
about  "better  have  no  Cabinet  than  the  one  you  now 
have"  very  useful!  One  day  twenty  Senators  called 
on  the  President  in  a  body  denouncing  Stanton's  con- 
duct of  the  war.  They  did  not  daunt  the  President, 
who  parried  with  a  remark  about  Blondin  the  dare- 
devil who  crossed  Niagara  on  a  tight  rope. 

"Would  you,"  he  asked,  "keep  shouting  to  him  as 
he  went,  when  any  false  step  meant  sure  death? 
Would  you  cry  out  to  him  all  the  time,  'Stoop  a  little 
more.  Go  a  little  faster!  Slow  up!  Lean  a  little 
more  to  the  north!  More  to  the  south?'  No,  you 
would  keep  your  mouths  shut.  Now  we  are  doing  the 
best  we  can.  The  Government  is  crossing  a  tight 
rope;  don't  badger  it.  Keep  silent  and  we  will  get 
safely  across." 

The  vindictiveness  which  constantly  assaulted  Lin- 
coln went  deeper  than  mere  complaints  and  criticism. 
Threats  were  made,  and  precaution  against  assassina- 
tion was  the  constant  anxiety  of  his  bodyguard,  espe- 
cially as  Lincoln  fearlessly  exposed  himself  too  often 
to  unnecessary  danger.  During  the  hot  summer  Lin- 
coln spent  his  nights  not  at  the  White  House,  but  out 
in  the  cool  loveliness  of  the  Soldiers'  Home  beyond  the 
city's  hot  pavements.  The  carelessness  with  which  the 
President  often  gave  his  guardsmen  "the  slip"  and  rode 
back  and  forth  between  the  Capital  and  the  Soldiers' 


THE  WAR  GRINDS  ON  319 

Home  at  night  was  the  subject  of  keen  alarm  for  all 
the  Cabinet  and  especially  for  Marshal  Lamon. 

Lincoln  once  remarked  to  some  one  who  took  him 
to  task  for  his  carelessness  in  exposing  himself  to  risk : 

"Mother  has  got  a  notion  in  her  head  that  I  shall 
be  assassinated,  and  to  please  her  I  take  a  cane  when  I 
go  over  to  the  War  Department  nights — when  I  don't 
forget  it.  I  long  ago  made  up  my  mind  that  if  any- 
body wants  to  kill  me  he  will  do  it.  If  I  wore  a  shirt 
of  mail  and  kept  myself  surrounded  by  a  bodyguard 
it  would  be  all  the  same.  There  are  a  thousand  ways 
of  getting  at  a  man  if  it  is  desired  he  should  be 
killed." 

Though  warned  of  danger  again  and  again,  Lincoln 
rode  out  to  the  Home  alone  after  dark  one  night  upon 
his  favorite  horse,  "old  Abe,"  and  was  fired  upon  by 
some  one  hiding  in  the  bushes,  the  bullet  piercing  his 
high  silk  hat.  After  this,  precautions  were  redoubled, 
and  an  escort  never  left  him  to  ride  the  streets  alone. 
Walt  Whitman  used  to  watch  the  President's  little 
cavalcade  pass  each  day  and  says  of  it : 

"I  saw  him  this  morning  about  8.30  coming  in  to 
business,  riding  on  Vermont  Avenue,  near  L  Street. 
He  always  has  a  company  of  twenty-five  or  thirty 
cavalry,  with  sabers  drawn  and  held  upright  over  their 
shoulders.  They  say  this  guard  was  against  his  per- 
sonal wish,  but  he  let  his  counselors  have  their  way. 
The  party  makes  no  show  in  uniform  or  horses.  Mr. 
Lincoln  in  the  saddle  generally  rides  a  good-sized,  easy- 
going gray  horse,  is  dressed  in  plain  black,  somewhat 
rusty  and  dusty,  wears  a  black  stiff  hat,  and  looks  about 
as  ordinary  in  attire,  etc.,  as  the  commonest  man.    A 


320    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

lieutenant,  with  yellow  stripes,  rides  at  his  left,  and 
following  behind,  two  by  two,  come  the  cavalrymen, 
in  their  yellow  striped  jackets.  They  are  generally 
going  at  a  slow  trot,  as  that  is  the  pace  set  them  by 
the  one  they  wait  upon.  The  sabers  and  accouterments 
clank,  and  the  entirely  unornamental  cortege,  as  it 
trots  towards  Lafayette  Square,  arouses  no  sensa- 
tion,— only  some  curious  stranger  stops  and  gazes. 
Sometimes  the  President  goes  and  comes  in  an  open 
barouche.  The  cavalry  always  accompany  him,  with 
sabers  drawn.  Often  I  notice  as  he  goes  out  evenings 
— and  sometimes  in  the  morning,  when  he  returns 
early — he  turns  off  and  halts  at  the  large  and  hand- 
some residence  of  the  Secretary  of  War,  on  K  Street 
and  holds  conference  there.  If  in  his  barouche,  I  can 
see  from  my  window  he  does  not  alight,  but  sits  in  his 
vehicle  and  Mr.  Stanton  comes  out  to  attend  him. 
Sometimes  one  of  his  sons  (Tad),  a  boy  of  ten  or 
twelve,  accompanies  him,  riding  at  his  right  on  a  pony." 

Although  Lincoln  seemed  somewhat  affected  by  his 
wife's  premonition  of  assassination,  he  was  "incor- 
rigibly skeptical/'  the  watchful  Lamon  says,  "with  one 
solitary  exception." 

This  was  "one  Garowski,  a  Polish  exile,  as  many 
believed.  He  was  an  accomplished  linguist,  a  revolu- 
tionist by  nature,  restless,  revengeful,  and  of  fiery  and 
ungovernable  temper."  It  was  Marshal  Lamon's  duty 
to  be  on  the  alert  for  such  suspicious  characters  and 
of  this  one  he  reports :  "He  had  been  employed  in  the 
State  Department  as  a  translator,  but  had  quarreled 
with  Mr.  Seward  and  was  discharged.  This  caused 
him  to  pursue  Lincoln  and  Seward  with  bitter  hatred. 


THE  WAR  GRINDS  ON  321 

From  this  man  and  from  him  alone  Mr.  Lincoln  really 
apprehended  danger  by  violent  assault,  although  he 
knew  not  what  the  sense  of  fear  was  like,  Mr.  Lincoln 
once  said :  'So  far  as  my  personal  safety  is  concerned, 
Garowski  is  the  only  man  who  has  given  me  a  serious 
thought.  From  his  disposition  he  is  dangerous  and  I 
have  sometimes  thought  that  he  might  try  to  take  my 
life.  It  would  be  just  like  him  to  try  to  do  such  a 
thing.'  " 

There  was  ample  reason  to  fear  others  beside  this 
man,  had  Lincoln  been  of  a  fearful  nature.  From  the 
very  day  of  his  nomination,  threatening  letters  were  a 
common  occurrence  in  the  day's  mail.  Lincoln  kept 
them  filed  together,  tied  in  a  bundle  coolly  labeled 
"Assassination,"  and,  speaking  of  them,  he  once  said, 
"Oh,  yes,  when  I  got  the  first  one  or  two  I  felt  a 
little  uncomfortable,  but  now  I  look  forward  to  them 
as  a  regular  installment.  You  know,"  he  said,  his 
face  creasing  into  a  smile,  "There  is  nothing  like  get- 
ting used  to  things!" 

Personal  danger  from  assassination  disturbed  the 
President  far  less  than  the  war  and  deaths  of  others. 
Night  after  night  his  feet  could  be  heard  pacing  up 
and  down,  up  and  down,  up  and  down  the  White 
House  floor  until  long  after  the  hush  of  that  zero 
hour,  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  while  he  wrestled 
with  the  mental  anguish  that  was  his  with  every  battle 
and  every  danger  to  the  Union's  integrity.  "Oh,  this 
bloody  war,  this  awful,  awful  war,  could  we  have 
avoided  it?  Will  it  never  end,  will  it  never,  never 
end?"  he  cried  out  in  agony  after  news  of  a  particu- 
larly heavy  loss  of  troops.     Controlled  by  day,  his 


322     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

emotions  broke  from  him  in  sleep  and  then  the  cries 
and  moaning  from  his  tortured  heart  distressed  the 
night  watchman  on  guard  on  the  .White  House  cor- 
ridors. 

The  frightful  slaughter  at  Fredericksburg  wrung 
from  the  grieving  President  the  bitter  cry,  "Oh,  no 
man  out  of  hell  suffers  more  than  I  do!"  Beneath 
this  fearful  strain  Lincoln's  mind  might  have  given 
way  save  for  one  thing.  A  group  of  men,  waiting  in 
the  passageway  outside  the  office  where  Lincoln  was 
engaged  one  day,  heard  his  outburst  of  merry  un- 
restrained laughter  and  one  of  Lincoln's  friends  re- 
marked significantly,  "That  laugh  has  been  the  Presi- 
dent's life  preserver!" 

The  spirit  which  enabled  him  to  laugh  supported 
Lincoln  to  face  and  desire  reelection  to  office  that  he 
might  finish  the  work  he  had  started.  His  first  term 
as  President  was  nearly  over  and  there  began  to  be 
talk  of  new  nominations.  Grant's  name  was  sug- 
gested, but  of  this  Lincoln  said,  "I  don't  think  they 
can  get  him  to  run.  If  he  is  the  great  General  we 
think  he  is,  he  must  have  some  consciousness  of  it 
and  know  that  he  cannot  be  satisfied  with  himself  and 
secure  the  credit  due  for  his  great  generalship  if  he 
does  not  finish  his  job.  No,  I  don't  believe  they  can 
get  him  to  run."  They  could  not.  Though  his  name 
was  inevitably  put  up,  Grant  declined  so  forcibly  as 
to  leave  no  doubt  of  his  determination.  He  was  not 
nominated;  Lincoln  was,  and  who  should  run  against 
him  on  the  Democratic  ticket  but  McClellan.  Mc- 
Clellan's  platform  was  "the  war  is  a  failure,  peace 
at  all  hazards!"    Cartoons  of  the  day  represented  him 


THE  WAR  GRINDS  ON  323 

holding  together  the  map  of  the  United  States  which 
Abraham  Lincoln  and  Jefferson  Davis  were  pictured 
as  tearing  apart  between  them,  the  one  crying,  "No 
peace  without  Abolition!"  the  other,  "No  peace  with- 
out Separation!" 

Needless  to  say,  McClellan,  the  Democratic  candi- 
date, lost  this  election.  Lincoln  was  informed  of  his 
reelection  by  a  serenade  at  2  o'clock  in  the  morning 
under  his  empty  White  House  window.  He  was  at 
work  at  that  hour  in  the  War  Office  and  was  sum- 
moned home  to  answer  the  serenaders.  His  impromptu 
speech  wound  up :  "If  I  know  my  heart,  my  gratitude 
is  free  from  any  taint  of  personal  triumph.  I  do  not 
impugn  the  motives  of  any  one  opposed  to  me.  It  is 
no  pleasure  to  me  to  triumph  over  any  one,  but  I  give 
thanks  to  the  Almighty  for  this  evidence  of  the  people's 
resolution  to  stand  by  free  Government  and  the  rights 
of  humanity." 

When  congratulated  by  some  delegates  eager  to 
have  "long  Abe  four  years  longer,"  Lincoln  merely 
replied  that  it  was  dangerous  to  change  an  Adminis- 
tration in  the  midst  of  war,  or  as  he  vividly  put  it  in 
his  own  words,  "It  is  best  not  to  swap  horses  crossing 
a  stream,"  adding  ruefully,  "They  must  have  concluded 
that  I  am  not  so  poor  a  horse  that  they  might  not  make 
a  botch  of  it  by  trying  to  swap  now." 

Grant's  telegram  of  congratulation  was  character- 
istically blunt  and  forceful :  "It  is  a  victory  worth  more 
to  the  country  than  a  battle  won." 

The  ceremonies  of  the  Second  Inaugural  were 
marked  by  the  strained  solemnity  of  wartime.  Again 
the  eastern  plaza  was  thronged  but  this  multitude  was 


324     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

signally  different  from  that  of  four  years  ago.  Uni- 
forms were  everywhere  evident,  the  black  gowns  of 
women  marked  the  interlude  of  loss  and  mourning, 
the  white  sea  of  upturned  faces<was  darkened  by  the 
multitudes  of  newly  liberated  negroes.  Hemming  in 
the  background  of  the  vast  inaugural  crowd  were 
marshaled  battalions  of  new  troops,  among  them 
negro  companies.  Other  changes  were  evident  to  Lin- 
coln. Stephen  A.  Douglas,  "the  Little  Giant,"  was  not 
there  this  time  to  hold  his  hat;  the  death  in  battle  of 
Colonel  Edward  D.  Baker  had  been  a  grief  second 
only  in  Lincoln's  bruised  heart  to  the  recent  loss  of  his 
little  son.  Judge  Taney,  who  had  administered  the 
oath  at  the  first  inaugural,  had  given  place,  through 
death,  to  the  new  Chief  Justice  Chase  (former  Sec- 
retary of  the  Treasury),  who  now  held  the  Bible  for 
the  President  to  kiss. 

The  bleak  March  day  was  dark,  cold,  rainy, 
ominous  with  lowering  clouds,  but,  as  if  in  omen 
of  happier  days  to  come,  just  as  Lincoln  stepped 
forward  to  take  the  oath  of  office  out  came  the  sun- 
shine, cutting  through  the  rain  and  spreading  hope  and 
splendor  over  the  Capitol. 

This  inauguration  was  marred  by  a  disturbance  in 
the  crowd  which  Policeman  Strong  and  Commissioner 
French  were  holding  back  at  the  East  door  of  the 
Rotunda.  After  the  procession  of  Judges  leading  the 
President  had  passed  out  of  the  building  to  the  inaugu- 
ral platform,  a  frenzied  man  made  an  excited  rush  to 
burst  through  the  crowd  and  dash  out  upon  the  plat- 
form. He  was  seized  by  Lieut.  Westfall,  assisted  by  the 
prompt  action  of  Strong  and  French,  and  was  dragged 


THE  WAR  GRINDS  ON  325 

off  with  some  difficulty,  fighting  frantically.  But  the 
plan  which  failed  that  Inaugural  Day  was  to  succeed 
later,  for  the  author  of  the  disturbance  was  John 
Wilkes  Booth. 

But  of  all  this  excitement  going  on  behind  his  back, 
Lincoln  knew  nothing  as  he  advanced  before  the  popu- 
lace to  deliver  that  famous  second  inaugural  address, 
in  which  with  solemn  religious  utterance  he  explained 
his  own  spirit  better  than  any  one  else  has  ever  done 
for  him : 

"Fondly  do  we  hope,  fervently  do  we  pray  that  this 
mighty  scourge  of  war  may  speedily  pass  away.  .  .  . 

"With  malice  toward  none,  with  charity  for  all,  with 
firmness  in  the  right  as  God  gives  us  to  see  the  right, 
let  us  strive  to  finish  the  work  we  are  in,  to  bind  up 
the  Nation's  wounds,  to  care  for  him  who  shall  have 
borne  the  battle,  and  for  his  widows  and  orphans,  to 
do  all  which  may  achieve  and  cherish  a  just  and  last- 
ing peace  among  ourselves  and  with  all  Nations." 


rr 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

TWO  BOYS  IN  THE  WHITE  HOUSE 

After  the  inauguration  in  1861,  when  the  Lincolns 
were  first  settled  in  the  White  House,  the  two  little 
boys  from  Springfield  felt  alone  and  homesick  in  their 
new  grandeur.  They  welcomed  the  opportunity  that 
soon  sent  them  playmates. 

"One  bright,  windy  day  in  March,  1861"  (writes 
Julia  Taft  Bayne  in  her  Atlantic  Monthly  article,  "Tad 
Lincoln's  Father"),  "my  two  brothers  and  I  were  sent 
to  play  with  the  Lincoln  boys.  At  my  mother's  first 
meeting  with  Mrs.  Lincoln  it  came  out  that  my  two 
brothers  were  about  the  ages  of  Willie  and  Tad  Lin- 
coln. 

"  'Send  them  around  to-morrow,  please,  Mrs.  Taft/ 
said  Mrs.  Lincoln.  'Willie  and  Tad  are  so  lonely  and 
everything  is  so  strange.'  "  Mrs.  Julia  Taft  Bayne  (a 
cousin,  by  the  way,  of  ex-President  Taft)  goes  on  to 
tell  of  this  visit. 

"Instead  of  going  to  the  front  door  and  asking  for 
Mrs.  Lincoln,  as  our  mother  had  directed,  we  went  in 
by  the  little  gate  near  the  Treasury.  We  entered  the 
office  of  Mr.  Watt,  the  head  gardener,  our  good  friend, 
who  called  up  the  stairs : 

"  'Here,  Willie,  Tad — is  somebody  to  play  with 
you !'  No  answer,  but  we  went  up  into  the  conserva- 
tory and  there  stood  the  boys  by  the  water-lily  tank 

326 


TWO  BOYS  IN  THE  WHITE  HOUSE     327 

watching  the  goldfish.  Such  nice  quiet  shy  boys,  I 
thought.  In  five  minutes  the  four  boys  had  disap- 
peared and  I  saw  them  no  more.  My  brothers  came 
home  at  dark  looking,  as  our  yellow  girl  Larney  said, 
like  dey  done  been  huntin'  coons  in  de  brush/  but  they 
'had  the  best  time;  been  all  over  the  White  House; 
Mrs.  Lincoln  said  we  must  come  every  day  and  bring 
Julia ;  and  Mr.  Lincoln  jounced  us  on  his  lap  and  told 
us  stories.3 " 

Willie  Lincoln  (so  the  sister  of  the  boys,  "Bud" 
and  "Hally"  Taft  tells  us)  was  light-haired,  pleasant, 
serious  and  quiet.  He  was  "the  most  lovable  boy 
I  ever  knew,  bright,  sensible,  sweet-tempered  and 
gentle-mannered."  Little  dark-eyed,  lively  Tad  was 
mischievous,  naughty,  funny  and  very  lovable  too, 
with  a  decidedly  individual  personality.  He  had  "a 
quick,  fiery  temper,  was  very  affectionate  when  he 
chose  but  implacable  in  his  dislikes.  A  slight  impedi- 
ment in  his  speech  made  it  difficult  for  strangers  to 
understand  him.  They  were  two  healthy,  rollicking 
western  boys,  never  accustomed  to  any  restraint,  and 
the  notice  which  their  father's  exalted  station  brought 
them  was  very  distasteful.  Willie  would  complain :  T 
wish  they  wouldn't  stare  at  us  so.  Wasn't  there  ever 
a  President  who  had  children?'" 

Little  Tad  had  a  maltreated  doll  called  Jack  who 
suffered  many  ups  and  downs  in  the  course  of  a  bat- 
tered career  that  mimicked  war  episodes  of  the  day. 

"On  one  occasion,"  says  the  same  writer,  "we  were 
in  the  attic  and  Tad  demanded  Jack.  I  volunteered 
to  find  the  doll.  I  went  downstairs  and,  opening  a 
door,  before  me  was  the  President  lying  stretched  out 


328     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

in  a  large  chair,  his  head  laid  back  but  with  such  an 
utterly  weary  and  sad  look — his  eyes  were  closed — 
that  I  softly  shut  the  door  and  went  up  and  told  Tad : 
'Your  father's  just  going  to  sleep  and  he  is  dreadfully 
tired  and  Jack  is  under  his  chair/ 

"'Huh!'  said  Tad.  'Come  on,  Hally— we'll  go 
down  just  as  still,  and  give  our  Indian  war  whoop; 
that'll  wake  him  up !'  They  went  downstairs  as  'still' 
as  a  load  of  bricks  and  we  heard  their  wild  whoops 
below." 

From  time  to  time,  Mrs.  Bayne  relates,  this  poor 
doll  was  "solemnly  court-martialed  by  the  boys,  found 
guilty  of  'sleeping  on  post'  or  'desertion'  and  was  sen- 
tenced to  be  shot.  The  firing  squad  was  Tad  and  his 
cannon.  Then  they  had  a  grand  military  funeral,  quite 
ignoring  the  fact  that  condemned  soldiers  are  not  ac- 
corded military  honors.  The  grave  was  dug  among 
the  choice  roses  on  the  south  side  of  the  White  House. 
Mrs.  Lincoln  one  day  said,  'Why  are  the  boys  making 
that  dreadful  noise,  Julia?'  I  replied,  'That  is  the 
Dead  March,  they're  burying  Jack.'  'Oh,  yes,'  she 
said,  'and  Mr.  Watt  says  they  dug  holes  among  the 
new  roses.  Go  and  tell  them  they  must  not,  Julia.' 
I  went,  though  I  knew  they  had  been  told  several 
times  before.  Mr.  Watt  was  there,  scolding,  and 
showed  me  several  places  where  Jack  had  been  buried 
and  later  disinterred. 

"  'Look  here,  Tad/  said  the  head  gardener,  'why 
don't  you  have  Jack  pardoned  ?•' 

"The  suggestion  was  enough ;  the  four  boys  clattered 
up  the  stairs  to  the  President's  private  office  and  de- 
manded a  pardon  for  Jack.    Mr.  Lincoln  heard  them 


TWO  BOYS  IN  THE  WHITE  HOUSE     329 

gravely,  took  a  sheet  of  his   official   notepaper  and 
wrote : 

"'The  doll  Jack  is  pardoned. 
By  order  of  the  President. 

"'A.  Lincoln.' 

"Tad  brought  this  to  me  saying  in  his  peculiar 
speech,  'Here,  Julie,  you  keep  this.  No  more  buryin's 
in  de  groun'.'  But  not  a  week  passed  before  poor 
Jack  in  his  handsome  Zouave  uniform  was  hanging 
by  the  neck  from  a  bush  in  our  garden.  Jad  said, 
'Jack  was  a  traitor  and  a  spy.'  " 

The  escapades  of  Tad's  toys  more  than  once  cut  in 
upon  White  House  employees'  duties.  Probably  the 
most  elaborate  event  of  the  kind  occurred  when  a  fire 
engine  was  ordered  to  pump  a  well  dry  to  regain  Tad's 
lost  ball.  The  fire  engine  Hibernia  and  crew,  of  Phila- 
delphia, was  stationed  in  Washington  for  war  emer- 
gency. The  Fire  Chief  was  presented  with  this  card 
written  by  Tad's  indulgent  father  only  six  weeks  be- 
fore the  assassination: 

"Will  Mr.  Dickson,  Chief  Engineer  of 
Hibernia,  please  pump  the  water  out 
of  a  certain  well,  which  Tad  will  show? 

"A.  Lincoln. 
"Feb.  27,  1865." 

No  one  but  Mrs.  Bayne  gives  so  delightful  and  inti- 
mate a  view  of  the  pranks  played  by  the  boys  in  the 
White  House, — pranks  that  brought  the  light  of 
amusement  into  the  President's  sad  face  in  those  dark 
days  of  war.  Such  boyish  antics  did  not  brighten  the 
Executive  Mansion  again  until  the  coming  of  the  lively 


330     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

young  Roosevelts.  It  is  far  more  entertaining  to  enjoy 
her  own  first  hand  account  of  the  boys'  pastimes  than 
to  try  to  paraphrase  her  unique  and  charming  narra- 
tive, and  we  therefore  deliberately  quote  again: 

"I  think  it  was  in  May,  1861,  that  Mrs.  Lincoln 
went  to  New  York  to  select  some  carpets  and  curtains 
for  the  White  House.  She  wrote  a  note  to  my  mother 
asking  that  Bud  and  Hally  might  live  at  the  White 
House  the  week  she  was  to  be  gone.  My  mother  con- 
sented, with  some  misgivings  and  Willie  and  Tad  ar- 
rived on  the  heels  of  the  messenger  in  a  pouring  rain, 
under  a  large,  dilapidated  umbrella  which  Tad  said 
they  borrowed  from  the  cook.  The  four  boys  de- 
parted joyfully,  Tad  calling  over  his  shoulder,  'You 
bet  we're  going  to  have  a  good  time!'  A  few  days 
later  I  went,  with  Larney,  carrying  some  fresh  blouses 
to  the  boys.  As  we  approached  the  White  House,  I 
was  conscious  of  a  smile  on  the  faces  of  the  sentries, 
messengers,  orderlies  and  doorkeeper.  I  followed  that 
smile  to  the  attic,  where  Tad  rushed  at  me  with  a 
bottle  of  shoe-blacking  in  his  hand,  calling  excitedly, 
'Julie,  come  quick !  We're  having  a  circus,  and  I  have 
got  to  be  blacked  up  and  Bud's  bonnet's  stuck  and 
Willie  can't  get  his  dress  on.'  Willie  was  struggling 
with  the  train  and  flounces  of  a  lilac  silk  of  Mrs.  Lin- 
coln's, while  Bud  had  a  ruffled  white  negligee  pinned 
around  him  in  billowy  folds  and  a  hat  of  Mrs.  Lin- 
coln's stuck  firmly  sidewise  on  his  head.  I  said,  'Does 
the  President  know  about  this  ?' 

"  'Yep/  said  Tad,  'Pa  knows  and  he  don't  care 
neither.  He's  coming  up  when  those  Generals  go 
away.' 


TWO  BOYS  IN  THE  WHITE  HOUSE     331 

"They  had  two  sheets  pinned  together  for  a  curtain, 
beyond  which  was  a  motley  assemblage — soldiers, 
sailors,  orderlies,  negroes,  every  one  who  had  five  cents 
might  go  up  the  back  stairs  and  see  the  show. 

"I  took  the  bottle  of  blacking  away  from  Tad  and 
made  him  up  with  some  burnt  cork — to  the  detriment 
of  my  white  dress — then  I  pinned  Willie  into  the  lilac 
silk.  Mrs.  Lincoln  wore  the  Victorian  decollete, — she 
had  a  beautiful  neck  and  shoulders.  Willie  handed 
me  a  bottle  of  'Bloom  of  Youth/  saying,  Tut  some  of 
this  on  Bud  and  me!'  I  swabbed  them  both  with  the 
beautifier.    Tad  was  singing  at  the  top  of  his  voice, — 

"  'Old  Abe  Lincoln  came  out  of  the  wilderness/ 

"I  had  had  quite  enough  and  made  my  escape.  In  the 
lower  hall  I  met  the  President  who  took  my  hand  and 
said,  'Here  is  Julie  come  to  the  circus ;  having  a  great 
time  up  there!' 

"  'Yes,  sir/  I  said,  'they  are  making  a  dreadful  noise, 
and  they  have  Mrs.  Lincoln's  things  on  and  they  look 
horrid!' 

"He  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed  heartily, 
'Come,  Julie,  we  will  go  up  and  see  them,'  he  said." 

So  the  President  found  relaxation  from  the  gruel- 
ing duties  of  high  office  in  the  children's  carefree  pas- 
times that  lightened  the  war-time  gloom. 

Penrod  and  Sam  in  the  White  House  could  have 
practiced  no  more  absurdities  than  Lincoln's  own  little 
sons.  They,  with  their  companions,  Bud  and  Hally, 
organized  a  regiment  all  their  own,  christened  "Mrs. 
Lincoln's  Zouaves."     "She  gave  them  a  flag,"   says 


332     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

"Julie"  (for  Mrs.  Lincoln  always  encouraged  the  chil- 
dren to  "have  a  good  time"),  and  "they  were  reviewed 
by  the  President.  The  Secretary  of  War  promised  to 
furnish  light  condemned  rifles,  but  I  do  not  remember 
whether  it  was  ever  armed  or  not,  for  the  company 
dwindled  until  it  was  like  Artemus  Ward's — 'all  of- 
ficers.' Willie  was  colonel  and  Bud  major,  and  Hally 
captain,  but  Tad  refused  every  rank  but  drum  major. 
The  officers  had  old-fashioned  swords,  given  them,  I 
think,  by  General  McClellan." 

Tad,  however,  did  hold  another  commission  which 
he  took  seriously.  The  gruff  Secretary  Stanton  de- 
lighted in  Tad  and  jokingly  commissioned  him  Lieu- 
tenant in  the  United  States  Army.  Tad  received  the 
handsome  present  of  several  old  muskets  from  the 
amused  Secretary  of  War,  and  arming  the  good- 
natured  house  servants  with  these,  Tad  used  to  put 
them  briskly  through  the  manual  of  arms.  One  night, 
attired  in  full  uniform,  the  infant  lieutenant  set  the 
servants  all  on  sentry  duty  in  spite  of  Willie's  horrified 
protest.  The  President  only  laughed  and  left  the 
sentries  on  duty  until  Tad  went  to  bed  and  to  sleep, 
and  then  the  Commander-in-Chief  of  the  Army  and 
Navy  went  downstairs  and  good-humoredly  released 
the  faithful  sentries  himself ! 

It  was  Tad  who  tagged  after  his  father  in  the  field 
when  reviewing  troops,  and  whose  little  pony  trotted 
after  his  father's  big  horse  to  and  fro  through  the 
streets  of  Washington.  Willie  liked  better  to  curl  up 
with  a  story  book  in  the  big  easy  chair  in  his  mother's 
room  where  he  sometimes  scribbled  little  poems  and 
stories  of  his  own,  for  he  was  a  studious  lad  with  a 


TWO  BOYS  IN  THE  WHITE  HOUSE     333 

decided  literary  bent.  He  was  as  methodical  as  Tad 
was  harum-scarum;  as  gentle  as  Tad  was  boisterous, 
as  mild  as  Tad  was  ungovernable.  One  day  Willie 
asked  "Julie's"  mother,  "Mrs.  Taft,  ought  Tad  to 
sing  that  song?  Isn't  it  disrespectful  to  Pa?"  for  Tad 
was  shouting  the  campaign  song : 

"Old  Abe  Lincoln,  a  rail-splitter  was  he, 
And  that's  the  way  he'll  split 
The  Con-f ed-er-a-ceeeee !" 

When  remonstrated  with,  the  unruly  Tad  retorted, 
"Ho,  I  don't  care!  Everybody  in  the  world  knows 
Pa  used  to  split  rails!" 

But  Willie  himself  enjoyed  a  little  sensation  too. 
Though  the  President  and  Mrs.  Lincoln  went  to  the 
New  York  Avenue  Presbyterian  Church,  where  Dr. 
Gurley  was  pastor,  Willie  preferred  to  accompany  the 
Tafts  to  Dr.  J.  C.  Smith's  Fourth  Presbyterian  Church. 
One  day  the  President  inquired  into  this  with : 

"  'Why  do  our  boys  like  to  go  to  your  church,  Julie  ?' 

"  'Why/  I  said,  T  reckon  our  church  is  livelier/ 

"  'Do  you  think  it  is  livelier,  Willie  ?' 

"  'Oh,  yes,'  answered  Willie,  'a  lot  of  those  folks  are 
secesh,  and  when  Dr.  Smith  prays  for  the  President  of 
the  United  States  they  get  up  and  go  out  and  bang 
the  pew  doors  and  slam  the  church  doors  after  them/  " 

Willie  and  Tad  had  both  received  little  ponies  as 
gifts  and  Willie  took  such  pleasure  in  riding  about  that 
he  went  out  every  day,  rain  or  shine.  It  was  the  one 
pastime  that  recalled  the  freedom  of  his  Springfield 
days.  In  February,  1862,  the  weather  was  chill,  wet, 
and  changeable  and  Willie  caught  cold  when  out  riding 


334     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

on  a  sunless  day.  At  first  it  seemed  to  be  only  a  cold. 
His  mother  put  him  to  bed  and  went  on  with  prepara- 
tions for  a  White  House  reception  to  be  given  one 
evening. 

Willie,  however,  became  decidedly  worse.  Fever 
set  in  and  the  little  patient  grew  perceptibly  weaker. 
His  mother  grew  so  worried  over  his  condition  that 
she  declared  he  was  too  sick  for  her  to  leave  and  she 
was  going  to  postpone  the  reception  until  he  was  better. 
Mr.  Lincoln  thought  a  doctor  should  be  consulted 
before  any  change  in  the  arrangements  be  made  and 
Dr.  Robert  King  Stone,  the  family  physician,  was 
called  in.  He  said  Willie  was  no  worse,  and  since  the 
invitations  were  already  mailed  he  saw  no  reason  for 
recalling  them  as  the  boy  seemed  in  no  immediate 
danger.  Preparations  for  the  reception  therefore  went 
on  uninterrupted,  but  on  the  evening  appointed  Willie 
was  decidedly  worse.  His  anxious  mother,  unmindful 
of  the  duties  of  hostess,  sat  by  the  boy's  bed,  holding 
his  hot  little  hand  and  brooding  over  his  harsh  breath- 
ing and  glazed  eyes.  Still  the  doctor  assured  her  that 
there  was  no  need  for  alarm. 

During  the  night  of  the  White  House  reception, 
which  was  a  large  and  brilliant  one,  the  suffering  boy 
became  worse.  He  kept  calling  for  his  little  chum, 
"Bud"  Taft,  and  "Bud"  was  permitted  to  stay  with 
him  a  good  deal  of  the  time.  The  President  tramped 
restlessly  through  the  house  from  the  reception  room 
to  the  sick  room.  He  would  stand  by  Willie's  bedside 
for  a  moment  and  then  go  out  without  speaking,  or 
he  would  lean  over  awkwardly  and  stroke  the  little 
fellow's  hair. 


TWO  BOYS  IN  THE  WHITE  HOUSE     335 

Willie  died  late  in  the  afternoon  of  February  20th, 
the  darkest  hour  of  the  first  year  of  the  war.  The 
President  was  almost  prostrated  with  grief.  He  came 
nearer  breaking  that  desolate  February  evening  than 
at  any  time  through  the  years  that  followed.  He  would 
come  to  the  bed  where  Willie's  still  form  was  lying, 
lift  the  cover  from  the  child's  face  and  murmur 
brokenly:  "It  is  hard — hard  to  have  him  die."  Mrs. 
Lincoln,  too,  was  inconsolable.  In  addition  to  bearing 
his  own  grief,  Lincoln  had  to  fortify  his  wife.  "Try- 
to  control  your  grief,  Mother,"  he  would  say,  "or  it 
will  drive  you  mad." 

These  words  proved  sadly  prophetic.  Mrs.  Lincoln's 
mind,  shaken  at  the  death  of  her  son,  Eddie,  and  un- 
done in  grief  at  Willie's  death,  gave  way  completely 
after  her  husband's  assassination  and  she  spent  the 
rest  of  her  life,  after  that  loss,  at  the  home  of  her 
sister,  Mrs.  Edwards,  in  Springfield,  irresponsible  and 
though  quiet  and  gentle,  lost  in  a  melancholy  mad- 
ness. 

After  Willie's  death  Mrs.  Lincoln  could  not  endure 
Robert's  begging  that  he  be  allowed  to  go  to  war.  His 
periodic  visits  home  were  the  only  bright  spots  in  her 
days  now,  and  terror  seized  her  lest  this  son  too  be 
taken  from  her. 

"No!"  she  opposed  him.  "I  have  lost  one  son  and 
that  loss  is  all  I  can  bear  without  making  another 
sacrifice." 

"Many  another  mother  has  given  all  her  sons,"  Lin- 
coln reminded  her,  "and  our  boy  is  no  dearer  to  us 
than  others  are  to  their  parents." 

"That  may  be,  but  I  cannot  bear  to  have  Robert  ex- 


336     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

posed  to  danger,"  she  contended.  "Surely  he  is  not 
needed  I" 

"Every  man  who  loves  his  country  is  needed  in  this 
war,"  said  Lincoln  sternly.  At  last  she  gave  up  her 
opposition,  buried  her  face  in  her  trembling  hands  and 
gave  him  her  permission  to  join  the  army.  Robert 
went  into  the  field,  attained  the  rank  of  Captain  and 
served  as  General  Grant's  aide  until  the  end  of  the 
war,  when  he  returned  safe  and  sound  to  his  mother. 

Willie's  funeral,  which  took  place  in  the  east  room 
of  the  mourning  White  House,  marked  the  passing  of 
the  "child  of  the  nation." 

Mrs.  Lincoln  was  too  prostrated  to  attend  the 
funeral,  and  she  asked  Mrs.  Taft  to  keep  Bud  and 
Hally  at  home  on  that  day  as  "it  makes  me  feel  worse 
to  see  them,"  she  said,  pathetically.  "Julie,"  therefore, 
did  not  see  the  Lincolns  again  until  several  years  later 
when  she  attended  one  of  Mrs.  Lincoln's  receptions. 
At  sight  of  her,  Tad,  who  was  present,  flung  himself 
down  on  the  floor  amid  all  the  guests  and  kicked  and 
screamed  distressingly  until  hastily  carried  out  by  the 
servants.  "You  must  excuse  him,"  his  mother  said. 
"You  know  what  he  remembers."  Poor  little  Tad 
himself  never  lived  to  grow  up,  but  died  in  Chicago 
when  he  was  only  eighteen,  shortly  after  an  educational 
trip  he  had  made  to  Europe.  He  therefore  never  lived 
to  enjoy  the  plans  made  by  his  father,  who  said :  "Ah, 
no !  No  one  should  ever  aspire  to  be  President !  I  tell 
my  boy  Tad  that  when  we  get  home  to  Springfield  I 
will  get  him  a  little  pony  and  cart  and  he  shall  make 
his  own  little  garden  in  a  field  and  we  shall  be  far 
happier  then  than  we  ever  have  been  here." 


TWO  BOYS  IN  THE  WHITE  HOUSE     337 

A  newspaper  account  of  the  funeral  of  Willie  Lin- 
coln reads : 

"There  sat  the  man  with  a  burden  on  the  brain  at 
which  the  world  marvels — bent  now  with  the  load  at 
both  heart  and  brain, — staggering  under  a  blow  like 
the  taking  from  him  of  his  child.  His  men  of  power 
sat  around  him — McClellan,  with  a  moist  eye  when  he 
bowed  to  the  prayer,  as  I  could  see  from  where  I  stood 
and  Chase  and  Seward,  with  their  austere  features  at 
work;  and  senators,  ambassadors  and  soldiers,  all 
struggling  with  their  tears — great  hearts  sorrowing 
with  the  President  as  a  stricken  man  and  a  brother. 
That  God  may  give  him  strength  for  all  his  burdens 
is,  I  am  sure,  the  prayer  of  a  nation." 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

THE    SLEEPING    SENTINEL    AND    OTHERS 

The  long  dark  days  of  war  dragged  on,  crushing 
out  much  of  Lincoln's  vitality  with  its  harrowing  de- 
mands. The  man  who  could  not  abandon  a  little  pig 
to  struggle  in  a  mudhole,  nor  pass  by  baby  birds 
tumbled  from  their  nest,  found  heightened  suffering  in 
the  hideous  agony  of  a  great  war.  He  had  no  heart 
to  approve  death  warrants,  and  his  acts  of  tenderness 
toward  prisoners,  condemned  men  and  deserters,  as 
well  as  his  sympathy  toward  all  mothers  of  soldiers 
became  proverbial.  His  clemency  grew  to  be  the  one 
hope  of  those  in  desperation. 

One  of  Lincoln's  best  known  acts  of  mercy  was  in 
sparing  the  life  of  a  sleeping  sentinel.  This  soldier, 
William  Scott,  condemned  to  die  for  sleeping  at  his 
post,  was  to  be  shot  one  morning  by  a  firing  squad  of 
twelve.  A  coffin  was  set  ready  for  the  sentinel, 
scarcely  more  than  a  boy,  to  fall  into  at  the  fatal 
volley.  This  episode  coming  to  Lincoln's  attention  so 
preyed  on  the  President's  mind  that  on  the  day  before 
the  execution,  he  went  in  person  to  the  field  tent  where 
the  boy,  under  guard,  was  awaiting  death.  Officers 
often  complained  that  the  President's  interference  with 
death  sentences  threatened  their  discipline,  but  Lincoln, 
who  had  always  hated  even  gunning  for  game,  could 
not  bear  the  taking  of  a  human  life. 

338 


THE  SLEEPING  SENTINEL  AND  OTHERS    339 

Bending  his  tall  form  to  enter  the  condemned  boy's 
tent,  he  sat  down  by  the  young  soldier  and  gently  in- 
quired why  he  had  so  failed  in  duty.  He  learned  that 
the  youth  after  marching  forty-eight  continuous  hours 
with  no  sleep  had  volunteered  to  do  sentry  duty  in 
place  of  a  comrade  who  had  fallen  sick.  His  spirit  of 
service  could  not  combat  the  utter  exhaustion  of  his 
worn-out  body.  Scott  had  succumbed  to  extreme 
fatigue,  sleep  overpowered  him.  He  was  found 
soundly  sleeping  at  his  post  within  very  gunshot  of 
the  enemy  lines.  In  accordance  with  the  usual  disci- 
pline he  was  ordered  shot. 

Lincoln  sat  for  some  time  quietly  talking  with  the 
boy,  asking  about  his  home,  his  school  days,  his  friends 
and  relatives,  and  especially  about  his  mother.  Scott 
said  he  was  a  country  boy  from  a  Vermont  farm,  and 
he  took  a  picture  of  his  mother  from  his  pocket  to 
show  Lincoln.  The  President  sat  with  the  little  picture 
in  his  hand  for  some  time,  gazing  at  it  without  speak- 
ing. Handing  it  back  he  rose  and  laid  one  hand  on 
the  prisoner's  shoulder. 

"My  boy,"  he  said,  "you  are  not  going  to  be  shot  to- 
morrow. I  believe  you  when  you  say  that  you  could 
not  keep  awake.  I  am  going  to  trust  you  and  send  you 
back  to  your  regiment.  Now,  I  want  to  know  what 
you  are  going  to  do  to  pay  for  this  ?"  The  boy  much 
flustered  murmured  that  he  did  not  know.  His  people 
did  not  have  much  money  but  he  was  sure  they  could 
mortgage  the  farm,  and  he  had  his  own  small  savings 
and  soldier's  pay  besides.  He  would  be  glad  to  give 
that,  and  perhaps  his  fellow  soldiers  might  contribute. 


340     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

Probably  he  could  raise  several  hundred  dollars  if  that 
would  be  enough? 

"No/'  said  the  kind-hearted  President,  "my  bill  is  a 
great  deal  larger  than  that.  Your  family  can't  pay  it, 
your  friends  can't  pay  it,  there  is  only  one  man  in  the 
world  who  can  and  his  name  is  William  Scott.  If  from 
this  day  on  he  does  his  duty  so  that  when  he  comes  to 
die  he  can  truly  say,  'I  have  kept  the  promise  I  made 
the  President — I  have  done  my  duty  as  a  soldier,'  then 
the  debt  will  be  paid." 

Lincoln  wrote  out  the  pardon  for  Scott  answering 
a  demur  with,  "I  could  not  think  of  going  into  eternity 
myself  with  that  poor  young  man's  blood  on  my  hands. 
Besides,"  he  added  with  the  conviction  of  reminiscence, 
"it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  a  boy  raised  on  a  farm 
and  probably  in  the  habit  of  going  to  bed  at  dark, 
should,  after  a  forty-eight-hour  march,  fall  asleep  when 
required  to  watch.  I  cannot  consent  to  shooting  him 
for  that." 

Lincoln's  trust  in  Scott  was  not  misplaced,  for  a  few 
months  later  he  died  in  battle.  His  death  occurred 
at  the  darkest  hour  of  the  war,  when  general  after 
general  had  been  defeated  and  the  North  in  despair 
was  turning  against  Lincoln  denouncing  him  and  even 
calling  for  his  resignation.  In  the  midst  of  this,  word 
was  received  from  the  comrade  who  had  been  with  the 
pardoned  sentinel  when  he  died.  His  message  read, 
"William  Scott  died  to-day.  His  last  words  were, 
Tell  the  President  to  keep  up  his  courage,  we  will 
win  yet'  " 

But  winning  seemed  desperately  uncertain  at  that 


THE  SLEEPING  SENTINEL  AND  OTHERS     341 

time.  Wholesale  desertion  marked  the  army's  low 
morale.  On  one  day  as  many  as  twenty  deserters  were 
sentenced  to  be  shot  at  once.  Lincoln  refused  to  put 
his  signature  to  their  death  warrants. 

"You  can't  order  men  shot  like  this  by  the  score !" 
he  said.  "It  is  unmerciful  and  barbarous !  There  must 
be  some  better  way  to  treat  this  matter  by  getting  at 
the  reason  they  desert." 

The  commander  in  charge  protested  that  unless  these 
men  were  promptly  made  examples  of  the  discipline  of 
the  whole  army  would  be  in  peril.  To  this  Lincoln 
answered  flatly : 

"General,  there  are  too  many  weeping  widows  in  the 
United  States  now,  for  God's  sake  don't  ask  me  to  add 
to  the  number,  for  I  tell  you  plainly,  I  won't  do  it." 

The  suffering  of  widows  and  bereaved  mothers  par- 
ticularly depressed  Lincoln  throughout  the  war.  Of 
all  his  acts  of  sympathy  to  those  in  grief,  best  remem- 
bered now  is  his  letter  to  Mrs.  Bixby.  On  Sept.  24, 
1864,  the  Adjutant-General  of  Massachusetts  wrote 
the  following  report  to  Governor  Andrew  of  the  same 
state,  concerning  Mrs.  Lydia  Bixby  of  Boston : 

"About  ten  days  ago,  Mrs.  Bixby  came  to  my  office 
and  showed  me  five  letters  from  five  different  company 
commanders,  and  each  letter  informed  the  poor  woman 
of  the  death  of  one  of  her  sons.  Each  of  her  sons,  by 
his  good  conduct  had  been  made  a  sergeant." 

To  this  Governor  Andrew  replied,  "This  is  a  case 
so  remarkable  that  I  really  wish  a  letter  might  be 
written  her  by  the  President  of  the  United  States  tak- 


342     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

ing  notice  of  so  well  deserved  a  noble  mother  of  five 
dead  heroes." 

When  this  matter  was  laid  before  Lincoln  he  was 
so  overcome  by  the  mother's  frightful  loss  that  he  put 
his  whole  heart  into  writing  a  letter  which  the  Boston 
Globe  declared  "will  go  down  to  posterity  as  one  of 
the  finest  expressions  of  condolence  and  sympathy  ever 
penned  in  our  language."  It  is  interesting  to  know 
that  a  copy  of  this  famous  letter  hangs  on  the  wall 
of  Brasenose  College,  Oxford  University,  England, 
"as  a  model  of  pure  and  exquisite  diction  which  has 
never  been  excelled/ ' 

"Executive  Mansion, 

"Washington,  Nov.  21,  1864. 
"To  Mrs.  Bixby,  Boston,  Mass. 
"Dear  Madam: 

"I  have  been  shown  in  the  files  of  the  War  Depart- 
ment, a  statement  of  the  Adjutant-General  of  Massa- 
chusetts that  you  are  the  mother  of  five  sons  who  have 
died  gloriously  in  the  field  of  battle.  I  feel  how  weak 
and  fruitless  must  be  any  word  of  mine  which  should 
attempt  to  beguile  you  from  a  grief  so  overwhelming. 
But  I  cannot  refrain  from  tendering  you  the  consola- 
tion that  may  be  found  in  the  thanks  of  the  republic 
they  died  to  save.  I  pray  that  our  Heavenly  Father 
may  assuage  the  anguish  of  your  bereavement,  and 
leave  you  only  the  cherished  memory  of  the  loved  and 
lost,  and  the  solemn  pride  that  must  be  yours  to  have 
laid  so  costly  a  sacrifice  upon  the  altar  of  freedom. 
"Yours  very  sincerely  and  respectfully, 

"A.  Lincoln." 


THE  SLEEPING  SENTINEL  AND  OTHERS     343 

It  will  afford  the  reader  a  breath  of  relief  to 
know  that  Mrs.  Bixby  did  not  lose  each  of  her  five 
sons  after  all.  The  War  Department  had  made  a 
mistake  by  confusing  another  Massachusetts  Bixby 
family.  The  five  Bixby  brothers  served  the  army  well, 
but  only  two  of  them  were  killed.  After  suffering  all 
the  grief  caused  by  the  incorrect  report,  Mrs.  Bixby 
enjoyed  the  more  tremendous  gratitude  in  having 
three  of  her  sons  unexpectedly  come  home  alive  and 
well  as  if  returned  to  her  from  the  grave. 

Not  the  weeping  mothers  alone  prompted  Lincoln 
to  interfere,  to  his  Generals'  dismay,  in  military  disci- 
pline. One  morning  a  Congressman  entering  the 
White  House  officially,  observed  an  old  man  in  one 
corner  of  that  crowded  anteroom  where  anxious  and 
tearful  people  seeking  the  President's  mercy  sat  all 
day  long,  hope,  fear,  grief  and  despair  in  the  eyes 
with  which  they  fearfully  watched  the  door.  This  old 
man  sat  by  himself  huddled  in  one  corner,  his  face 
buried  in  his  hands,  his  shoulders  shaken  by  silent 
sobs.  Such  a  sight  was  of  daily  occurrence  in  those 
sad  times  and  the  Congressman  passed  on  without  com- 
ment. But  the  next  day  in  passing  the  same  door  he 
saw  the  same  little  old  man  again  in  the  corner,  crying 
as  if  his  heart  would  break.  The  Congressman  could 
not  pass  him  by  again.  He  stopped  and  said,  "What's 
the  matter?" 

The  old  man  looked  up  and  wiped  his  eyes.  In  a 
shaken  voice  he  told  his  hopeless  story — his  son,  a  sol- 
dier under  General  Butler,  had  been  convicted  of  some 
crime  and  condemned  to  be  shot.  The  General,  con- 
vinced of  the  boy's  guilt,  refused  to  intervene. 


SU    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

"Well,"  said  the  Congressman,  touched  but  some- 
what dubious,  "I  will  take  you  to  the  President  and  you 
can  tell  him  all  about  it." 

The  old  man  hurried  eagerly  after  him  and  entered 
the  Chief  Executive's  presence  tremulous  and  abashed. 
He  was  set  at  ease  by  Lincoln's  kindly,  "Well,  my 
friend,  what  can  I  do  for  you  to-day?" 

The  old  man  repeated  his  story,  and  as  he  mentioned 
General  Butler  an  expression  of  sorrow  clouded  the 
President's  deep-set  eyes. 

"I  am  sorry,  but  I  fear  I  can  do  nothing  in  this 
matter,"  he  said  slowly.  "Listen  to  this  telegram  which 
General  Butler  sent  me  only  yesterday : 

"  'President  Lincoln :  I  pray  you  not  to  interfere 
with  the  courts-martial  of  the  army.  You  will  destroy 
all  discipline  among  our  soldiers.    B.  F.  Butler.'  " 

The  old  man's  face,  brightened  by  hope,  now  dark- 
ened pitifully  with  such  despair  and  grief  that  Lincoln 
could  not  endure  its  pathos  and  burst  out:  "By  jings, 
Butler  or  no  Butler,  here  goes !" 

He  rapidly  penned  a  few  words  and  passed  them  to 
his  petitioner  who  read :  "Job  Smith  is  not  to  be  shot 
until  further  orders  from  me. — A.  Lincoln." 

Again  hope  died  in  the  father's  eyes:  "Why,"  he 
said,  "I  thought  it  was  to  be  a  pardon  but  you  say  'not 
to  be  shot  till  further  orders'  and  you  may  order  him 
shot  next  week." 

Lincoln  smiled  reassuringly  and  patted  the  old  man's 
shoulder. 

"Well,  my  friend,"  he  chuckled,  "I  see  you  do  not 
know  me  very  well.  If  your  son  does  not  die  until 
orders  come  from  me  to  shoot  him,  he  will  live  to  be 
a  great  deal  older  than  Methuselah !" 


THE  SLEEPING  SENTINEL  AND  OTHERS    345 

Soft-hearted,  though  Lincoln  certainly  was,  he  was 
also  thoroughly  shrewd  and  in  spite  of  all  the  appeals 
put  to  him  for  wholesale  pardons  and  releases,  he  could 
not  be  imposed  upon.  Once  convinced  that  it  was 
wrong  and  unwise  to  comply  with  any  such  plea  he 
remained  firm  and  immovable.  For  example,  a  man 
who  was  in  a  Federal  jail  imprisoned  for  kidnaping 
African  natives  and  smuggling  them  as  slaves  into  the 
United  States,  petitioned  for  pardon.  He  had  served 
out  his  term,  but  had  not  paid  the  additional  thousand- 
dollar  fine  imposed  and  from  this  -fine  he  asked  to  be 
released.  His  plea,  accompanied  by  a  letter  of  recom- 
mendation for  mercy  from  the  local  Congressman,  was 
submitted  to  Lincoln.  After  due  consideration  the 
President  replied:  "No!  I  cannot  pardon  this  man! 
If  he  had  committed  murder,  there  might  be  some 
reason  in  it  for  which  I  could  grant  his  appeal.  But  a 
man  who  will  go  to  Africa,  steal  women  and  children 
and  sell  them  into  bondage  with  no  other  motive  than 
that  furnished  by  dollars  and  cents  is  so  much  worse 
than  the  most  depraved  murderer,  that  he  shall  cer- 
tainly never  receive  a  pardon  at  my  hands." 

Lincoln  was,  however,  as  quick  to  extend  clemency 
to  prisoners  of  war  as  to  his  own  soldiers.  In  this 
his  courtesy  and  kindness  stood  out  in  marked  contrast 
to  the  arrogant  Stanton's  curtness. 

There  is  one  touching  case  of  a  Southern  mother 
whose  boy  of  seventeen  had  run  away  to  war  without 
her  consent.  He  was  captured  and  imprisoned  at  Fort 
McHenry,  wounded  and  ill.  She  went  to  Washington 
to  petition  for  his  release  and  was  ushered  in  to  Mr. 
Stanton  first. 


346     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

As  soon  as  he  learned  that  she  was  a  Southerner, 
the  Secretary  flared  up  and  cried: 

"I  have  no  time  to  waste  on  such  as  you.  If  you 
have  reared  a  rebel  against  this  Government,  you  must 
take  the  consequences.,, 

The  mother  tried  to  explain  that  the  prisoner  was 
only  a  boy  who  had  been  fighting  without  her  approval, 
but  Mr.  Stanton  would  not  even  hear  her.  She  was 
sent  from  the  room  at  once,  and  said  afterwards  that 
she  was  lucky  "to  escape  alive.,, 

Some  friends  persuaded  her  to  try  again  for  his  re- 
lease and  later  she  obtained  admission  to  Lincoln. 
He  received  her,  she  said,  "with  the  kindness  of  a 
brother/ '  and  though  she  was  a  Southerner  he  never 
forgot  that  she  was  a  mother.  After  listening  consid- 
erately to  her  case,  and  weighing  it  he  gave  her  the 
following  order : 

"Executive  Mansion, 
"March  13,  1863. 
"To  the  Commandant  at  Fort  McHenry : 

"General: — You  will  deliver  to  the  bearer,  Mrs. 
Winston,  her  son,  now  held  a  prisoner  of  war  in  Fort 
McHenry,  and  permit  her  to  take  him  where  she  will 
upon  his  taking  proper  parole  never  again  to  take  up 
arms  against  the  United  States. 

"Abraham  Lincoln." 

As  soon  as  the  mother  pledged  herself  to  see  that 
her  boy  honored  his  parole,  Lincoln  said: 

"You  shall  have  your  son  again,  madam,  for  to  take 
him  from  the  ranks  of  rebellion  and  give  him  to  a 


THE  SLEEPING  SENTINEL  AND  OTHERS     347 

loyal  mother  is  the  best  investment  a  Government  can 
make.  Take  this  order  to  Fort  McHenry  and  get  your 
son.  God  grant  he  may  prove  a  blessing  to  you  and 
an  honor  to  his  country." 

"Thank  God  for  such  a  President,"  cried  Mrs. 
Winston,  "whose  soul  is  great  enough  to  forgive  his 
enemies,  and  whose  nobility  and  brotherly  kindness 
wins  them  to  his  side!" 

This  was  but  one  instance  of  his  constructive  policy, 
a  policy  which  he  quaintly  expressed  in  the  words :  "It 
is  better  to  hatch  an  egg  than  smash  it." 

Lincoln's  aversion  to  execution  gave  rise  to  incidents 
of  pardons  without  number,  but  this  one  is  too  good 
to  skip : 

A  Senator  rushed  to  the  choleric  Stanton  late  one 
night  to  secure  a  pardon  for  a  friend  of  his  who  was 
condemned  to  be  shot  at  sunrise.  The  Secretary  of 
War  brusquely  refused.  At  this,  the  Senator  in  des- 
peration cried  out,  "Well,  Mr.  Secretary,  this  man  is 
not  going  to  be  shot — of  that  I  give  you  fair  warn- 
ing!" He  hurried  directly  to  the  White  House  for 
although  it  was  then  late  at  night,  only  a  few  hours 
intervened  before  the  fatal  sunrise.  He  therefore  by 
hook  and  by  crook  forced  his  way  through  sentries  to 
the  President's  bed  chamber,  where  the  President  had 
already  gone  to  sleep  and  which  little  Tad  in  a  small 
bed  of  his  own  shared  with  his  father.  Too  excited  to 
hesitate  at  dragging  the  President  out  of  bed  in  the 
middle  of  the  night,  the  Senator  presented  his  case, 
explaining  that  he  had  only  just  received  the  despatch 
of  the  hour  of  execution. 

"This  man  must  not  be  shot,  Mr.  President!"  he 


348     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

pleaded.  "I  can't  help  what  he  had  done!  Why,  he 
is  an  old  neighbor  of  mine.  I  can't  allow  him  to  be 
shot !"  The  President  lay  back  on  his  pillow  listening 
to  his  old  friend,  the  Senator,  and  finally  sat  up,  one 
vast  expanse  of  nightshirt,  saying  soothingly : 

"Well,  I  don't  believe  shooting  will  do  him  any 
good!    Give  me  that  pen." 

Lincoln  maintained  a  scrupulous  courtesy  toward 
Southerners  and  permitted  no  one  to  indulge  in  rancor 
or  disrespect  toward  them  in  his  presence.  On  going 
through  a  Washington  hospital  one  day,  a  Brooklyn 
doctor  pointed  to  rows  of  wounded  soldiers  in  one 
ward  and  said  to  Lincoln,  "Those  are  only  Rebels  in 
there.,, 

"You  mean  Confederates,"  Lincoln  reproved  gently, 
and  made  his  way  from  bed  to  bed  speaking  cheerily  to 
each  of  the  Southern  boys  there.  More  than  one  of 
them  confirmed  the  opinion  of  the  old  Southern  farmer 
who  called  on  Lincoln  in  Springfield  just  before  the 
inauguration  and  heard  his  opinions  and  intentions. 
This  old  man  left  Lincoln  with  a  very  different  atti- 
tude from  the  one  he  had  come  with. 

"If  the  people  of  the  South  could  hear  what  I  have 
heard  they  would  love  and  not  hate  Mr.  Lincoln.  I 
will  tell  the  folks  at  home  but  they  will  not  believe  me. 
I  wish  every  man  in  the  South  could  be  personally 
acquainted  with  Mr.  Lincoln." 

As  the  conflict  went  on,  every  day  marked  Lincoln's 
haggard,  care-scarred  face  with  deeper  ravages  of 
anxiety,  sorrow  and  overwork.  In  spite  of  all  he  had 
on  hand  and  in  mind  he  visited  the  hospitals  conscien- 
tiously and  the  suffering  he  saw  there  traced  itself  in- 


THE  SLEEPING  SENTINEL  AND  OTHERS     349 

delibly  upon  his  own  face.  As  a  stretcher  with  a 
wounded  Southern  lad  was  carried  down  a  corridor 
past  Lincoln  one  day,  he  paused  in  grief  at  the  young 
soldier's  agonized  screams  drawn  from  him  in  the  ex- 
tremity of  hideous  wounds.  Lincoln  stopped  the 
stretcher-bearers  and  bent  over  the  boy,  asking,  "What 
can  I  do  for  you,  my  poor  child  ?" 

"I  know  you  won't  do  anything  for  me!"  retorted 
the  young  sufferer  desperately.  "You  are  a  Yankee, 
you  are  all  Yankees  and  I  can't  ever  hope  to  get  a 
message  through  to  my  mother." 

The  President  realized  that  the  boy  was  dying.  His 
own  eyes  filled  with  tears.  He  took  the  soldier's  fever- 
ish hands  in  his,  calmed  him  and  assured  him  that 
any  message  he  gave  would  reach  his  mother.  To  the 
boy's  dying  words  he  gave  the  closest  attention  and 
jotting  them  down  at  once,  on  a  pocket  pad,  had  them 
copied  for  the  mother.  That  night,  under  a  flag  of 
truce,  he  sent  his  letter  of  condolence  with  the  son's 
message  to  the  mother  on  the  other  side  of  the  fighting 
line. 

Not  only  was  Lincoln's  tall  figure  seen  in  hospital 
wards  but  out  among  the  officers'  tents  and  in  the  field 
as  well.  Lincoln  was  more  interested  in  the  men  of 
the  ranks  than  in  the  officers,  however,  and  they  used 
to  say  that  he  merely  touched  his  hat  in  return  salute 
to  officers  while  he  would  take  it  off  to  the  regular 
soldiers.  He  understood  the  rank  and  file  and  knew 
how  to  get  along  with  them. 

Once  he  was  riding  over  a  rough  corduroy  road  in 
an  ambulance.  The  driver  grew  more  and  more  en- 
raged at  the  violence  of  the  jolts  and  was  swearing 


350     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

furiously  at  his  mule-team.  Lincoln  leaned  over  to 
him  and  said : 

"I  wonder  if  you  are  an  Episcopalian  ?" 

The  driver  was  taken  aback. 

"No,  I'm  a  Methodist.'' 

"Oh,"  said  Lincoln,  "I  thought  you  must  be  an 
Episcopalian  because  you  swear  just  like  Governor 
Seward  who  is  a  church  warden." 

Needless  to  say  there  were  no  more  oaths  on  that 
trip. 

Lincoln  kept  in  closest  touch  with  the  army  per- 
sonnel at  all  times,  and  advocated  the  enlistment  of 
negro  companies  on  equal  terms  with  the  white  sol- 
diers. That  red  tape  and  far-fetched  "intelligence 
tests"  for  these  soldiers  were  all  too  common  is  evi- 
dent from  this  droll  and  pointed  note  to  the  Secretary 
of  War,  "I  personally  wish  Jacob  Freese,  of  New 
Jersey,  appointed  Colonel  of  a  colored  regiment,  and 
this  regardless  of  whether  he  can  tell  the  exact  color 
of  Julius  Caesar's  hair." 

At  the  same  time  that  the  Union  was  organizing 
colored  regiments,  the  Confederacy  was  planning  the 
same  thing  and  Lee  wrote  his  Congress : 

"In  my  opinion,  negroes,  under  proper  circum- 
stances, will  make  efficient  soldiers.  I  think  those  so 
employed  should  be  freed.  It  would  be  neither  just 
nor  wise,  in  my  opinion,  to  make  them  serve  as  slaves." 
There  was  no  one,  probably,  who  understood  and 
treated  the  negro  so  well  as  Robert  E.  Lee,  who  com- 
manded the  army  upholding  slavery.  After  the  war 
was  over,  when  discussion  ran  high  as  to  the  negro 


THE  SLEEPING  SENTINEL  AND  OTHERS     351 

problem,  he  said  gently,  "We  of  the  South  must  handle 
them.  We  are  the  ones  who  have  understood  them 
and  cared  for  them  since  childhood.,,  It  was  Lee, 
whose  mother  sent  him  when  he  was  an  eighteen-year- 
old  boy  to  take  their  old  and  consumptive  coachman  to 
the  milder  climate  of  Georgia  and  to  stay  and  nurse 
him  there.  Lee's  popularity  was  not  built  upon  the 
allegiance  of  white  men,  gentlemen  and  scholars  only. 
To  the  colored  people  he  was  their  beloved  "Marse 
Robert." 

To  return  now,  from  Richmond  to  Washington, 
President  Lincoln's  days  included  all  sorts  of  contrasts 
from  contact  with  a  swearing  mule  driver  to  comfort- 
ing a  woman  with  a  crying  baby.  He  loved  children 
and  he  was  ever  sympathetic  with  unhappiness.  Late 
one  afternoon  just  as  he  was  going  to  take  a  rest  after 
a  busy  day,  he  heard  a  baby  crying.  He  rang  for  his 
messenger  and  asked  if  a  woman  was  not  waiting  to 
see  him  in  the  anteroom.  There  was.  He  had  her 
shown  in  at  once  with  her  baby,  heard  her  story,  and 
pardoned  her  husband. 

As  she  left,  tears  streaming  down  her  cheeks,  sob- 
bing her  thanks,  and  clasping  her  child  tight  in  her 
relief,  the  messenger  told  her,  "Madam,  it  was  the 
baby  that  did  it." 

Pathos  and  drollery  checkered  even  these  days,  and 
many  an  encounter  with  politician  or  office  seeker  was 
as  laughable  as  other  incidents  were  pathetic.  One 
particularly  persistent  office  seeker  was  dismissed  with 
the  following  dry  comment.  This  was  a  petty  poli- 
tician who  sought  pompously  to  impress  Lincoln  with 


352     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

the  importance  of  his  own  service  toward  the  presi- 
dential election  and  held  this  up  as  a  reason  for  a 
Government  position  to  be  granted  him  in  return. 

"Oh,"  said  Lincoln  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  "so 
you  made  me  President,  did  you?  Well,  then,  a  pretty 
mess  you  got  me  into,  that's  all !" 

So  besieged  indeed  was  Lincoln  by  such  persons, 
seeking  Government  berths  even  while  war  imperiled 
the  Government,  that  he  declared  he  felt  "like  a  man 
letting  lodgings  at  one  end  of  the  house  while  the  other 
end  is  on  fire." 

An  ignorant  man  once  applied  to  the  President  for 
the  post  of  Doorkeeper  to  the  House  of  Representa- 
tives. He  had  no  qualifications  nor  reason  for  re- 
questing this  post  except  his  own  desire  for  "some- 
thing in  the  Government."  He  had  to  be  refused,  but 
Lincoln  did  it  gently  and  whimsically  without  hurting 
his  feelings  in  this  way : 

"So  you  want  to  be  Doorkeeper  to  the  House,  eh?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  President." 

"Well,  have  you  ever  been  a  doorkeeper  ?  Have  you 
ever  had  any  experience  in  door  keeping  ?" 

"Well,  no — no  actual  experience,  sir." 

"Any  theoretical  experience?  Any  instructions  in 
the  duties  and  ethics  of  door  keeping  ?." 

"Urn— no." 

"Have  you  ever  attended  any  lectures  on  door- 
keeping?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Have  you  read  any  textbooks  on  the  subject?" 

"No."  ' 


THE  SLEEPING  SENTINEL  AND  OTHERS     353 

"Have  you  conversed  with  any  one  who  has  read 
such  a  book?" 

"No,  sir,  I'm  afraid  not,  sir." 

"Well,  then,  my  friend,  don't  you  see  that  you 
haven't  a  single  qualification  for  this  important  post?" 
said  Lincoln  in  a  reproachful  tone. 

"Yes,  I  do,"  said  the  applicant,  and  he  took  his  leave 
humbly. 

All  sorts  of  applicants  applied  to  Lincoln  in  those 
days — he  could  not  see  them  all.  Dr.  Mahlon  Loomis, 
denounced  in  the  newspapers  of  the  day  as  "a  crank," 
sought  an  audience  with  the  cabinet  to  secure  Con- 
gressional appropriation  to  perfect  his  invention  of 
"aerial  telegraphy"  for  communication  of  the  battle- 
ships at  sea.  He  never  got  to  Lincoln's  presence,  for 
as  the  President  said,  "For  me  to  attend  to  all  these 
details  would  be  like  dipping  the  Potomac  dry  with  a 
teaspoon."  It  was  Secretary  Stanton  who  swept  this 
inventor  irately  out  of  the  door,  little  dreaming  the 
part  radio  would  play  in  the  country's  next  great  war. 

Up  until  the  very  day  of  his  death,  Lincoln's 
weightier  cares  were  interrupted  by  throngs  of  callers 
and  by  time  devoted  to  a  painstaking  review  of  all 
appeals  set  before  him.  An  appeal  was  made  for  a 
boy  who,  when  refused  a  furlough,  ran  away  home  to 
see  his  "girl,"  who  in  his  absence  seemed  setting  her 
heart  on  another.  Wild  with  jealousy,  the  lover  went 
home,  triumphed  over  his  rival,  married  his  girl  and 
came  back  to  his  regiment  only  to  face  execution  as 
a  deserter.  When  Lincoln  heard  this  story  he 
pardoned  the  culprit,  saying,  "Well,  I  suppose  I  would 


354*     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

have  done  the  same  fool  thing  when  I  was  young !" 
On  the  afternoon  of  that  Good  Friday  when  he  was 
assassinated,  Lincoln's  final  acts  included  the  signing 
of  two  pardons.  One  reprieved  a  soldier  sentenced  to 
die  for  army  desertion  and  as  the  President  dipped  his 
pen  in  ink  to  append  that  legible  "A.  Lincoln,"  he 
remarked,  "Well,  I  think  this  boy  can  do  us  more 
good  above  ground  than  under  it."  He  next  read 
with  approval  an  application  for  the  discharge  of  a 
Southern  prisoner,  across  whose  petition  he  scrawled 
these  words:  "Let  it  be  done."  These  were  his  last 
official  acts  of  mercy. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

RICHMOND   FALLS 

Springtime  of  the  fourth  and  last  year  of  the  war 
found  the  Confederate  army  in  a  pitiful  condition, 
half  clothed,  unfed.  Although  it  had  brilliantly  out- 
generaled the  North  throughout  the  conflict,  lack  of 
supplies  and  resources  now  began  to  strangle  it  as  no 
military  stratagem  had.  Such  a  staple  as  corn  meal 
had  risen  to  eighty  dollars  a  bushel  and  flour  cost  one 
thousand  dollars  a  barrel  in  the  paper  money  of  the 
Confederacy.  Meat  was  almost  unobtainable,  sugar  a 
rarity ;  coffee  had  long  ceased  to  be  available  and  miser- 
able substitutes,  on  winter  marches,  were  concocted  of 
hot  water  and  any  parched  root.  For  days  at  a  time 
now,  the  Southern  soldiers  marched  and  fought  with 
nothing  to  eat  all  day  but  three  hard  biscuits  and  one 
slice  of  salt  pork  apiece.  Sometimes  a  single  cracker 
with  no  meat  was  the  only  day's  ration.  Small  wonder 
that  Union  prisoners  complained  that  Southern  prison 
fare  was  starvation  diet  when  armies  in  the  field  had 
so  little  that  a  handful  of  corn  meal  meant  a  day's 
victuals ! 

"On  to  Richmond !",  the  Union  slogan,  now  looked 
possible.  Grant  kept  pressing  ever  nearer.  Lee, 
against  his  own  better  judgment,  was  held  to  the  mis- 
taken policy  of  retaining  Richmond.  Although  he  saw 
clearly  that  his  chief  hope  lay  in  retiring  to  the  moun- 
tain fastness  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  his  Administration 

355 


356     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

stubbornly  held  him  to  defend  the  crumbling  Capital 
and  there  was  nothing  for  him  to  do  but  obey.  There, 
therefore,  his  starved  and  ragged  soldiers  took  their 
gallant  stand. 

The  tentacles  of  the  Federal  forces  began  to  close 
in  about  them.  To  cut  off  escape  south,  Sheridan 
slipped  around  to  the  rear  of  Lee's  army,  and  on  Sat- 
urday the  first  of  April,  1865,  encountered  and  de- 
feated Pickett  with  great  slaughter  just  south  of 
Petersburg  at  Five  Forks.  This  should  have  been  the 
last  battle  of  the  war,  but  the  Southerners  stoutly  re- 
fused to  acknowledge  themselves  beaten.  They  shrank 
back  and  dug  themselves  into  the  deep  and  heavy  en- 
trenchments that  stretched  for  miles  around  Peters- 
burg. Here  at  daybreak  on  April  second  bombard- 
ment began,  and  General  Lee,  riding  along  the  lines, 
said  quietly  to  an  aide,  'This  is  a  bad  business,  Colonel. 
It  has  happened  as  I  told  them  at  Richmond  it  would 
happen.  The  line  has  been  stretched  until  it  has 
broken." 

On  that  same  Sunday  morning,  while  Jefferson 
Davis  sat  in  church,  an  officer  strode  up  the  aisle,  spurs 
jingling,  and  handed  him  a  telegram  from  Lee  read- 
ing, "Richmond  must  be  evacuated  this  evening." 
Davis  rose  and  left  the  church.  Summoning  his  Cabi- 
net, the  executives  immediately  transferred  the  Con- 
federate Government  with  all  its  archives  to  a  train 
which  sped  South.  The  state  Governor  and  Virginia 
legislature  assembled  on  board  a  canal  boat  that  crept 
slowly,  mule  drawn,  toward  Lynchburg.  All  orderly 
citizens,  seizing  what  belongings  they  could  carry,  fled 
before  the  approach  of  the  "Yankee  invaders"  until  a 


RICHMOND  FALLS  357 

long  line  of  all  sorts  of  vehicles  and  hurrying  pedes- 
trians, old  and  young,  kept  streaming  frantically  out 
of  the  city. 

The  military  ordered  burned  all  Government  prop- 
erty and  anything  that  might  serve  the  incoming  sol- 
diery. Nine  ships  under  construction  in  the  river  were 
set  on  fire,  tobacco  and  cotton  warehouses  were  set  in 
flames  and  the  arsenal  fired.  The  explosions  of  its 
shells  added  the  terror  of  deadly  bombardment  to  the 
street  scenes  of  panic.  Barrels  of  whiskey  were  burst 
open  and  sluiced  in  the  gutters  to  the  intoxication  of  a 
gloating  rabble  who  ran  in  wild  disorder  through  the 
city.  Under  cover  of  this  destruction,  mobs  rioted 
and  gave  way  to  mad  license.  Conflagrations  broke 
out  all  over  the  city  until  seven  hundred  buildings  were 
in  high  flames  and  their  crashing  walls  and  collapsing 
roofs  added  to  the  pandemonium  of  the  rioters  who 
were  smashing  doors  and  windows  of  remaining  shops 
and  dwellings  in  wanton  plunder.  The  entire  busi- 
ness section  was  wiped  out;  factories,  mills,  stations 
and  markets  were  charred.  In  this  carnival  of  fire  and 
confusion  the  convicts  from  the  penitentiary  effected 
a  wholesale  jail  delivery  and  rushed  in  their  striped 
uniforms  through  the  streets  shrieking  with  delirious 
liberty  and  adding  their  pillage  to  the  general  lawless- 
ness. So  the  city  was  left  for  Grant  to  enter,  but  he 
did  not  enter,  it.  Intent  on  business,  he  did  not  stop 
to  gaze  on  the  fallen  capital,  but  kept  on  tightly  squeez- 
ing the  retreating  army  before  him. 

The  captured  city  was  not  overrun  by  exulting  con- 
querors. Instead,  a  melancholy,  quiet  man,  sadly 
viewed  it  with  no  vindictive  exultation  in  his  breast. 


358    THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

Lincoln  all  this  time  had  been  at  City  Point,  where 
he  had  gone  to  visit  General  Grant  and  his  son,  Robert, 
taking  little  Tad  along.  Here  he  remained  aboard  the 
little  steamer  which  carried  him  along  to  review 
various  camps,  and  here  at  City  Point  he  received  tele- 
graphic reports  hourly  of  the  progress  at  Petersburg. 
Upon  news  of  the  evacuation  of  Richmond,  Lincoln 
prepared  to  visit  the  city. 

All  precautions  were  taken  and  the  President's 
steamer,  with  escorts,  accompanied  by  Admiral 
Porter's  flagship  and  followed  by  a  transport  bearing 
a  detachment  of  cavalry,  marines  and  ambulances, 
nosed  up  the  James  toward  Richmond.  Thus  pro- 
tected, Abraham  Lincoln  with  Tad,  started  to  see  the 
captured  city. 

But  the  river  had  been  obstructed,  and  ships  could 
not  pass.  Lincoln's  party  then  got  into  Admiral 
Porter's  small  barge,  rowed  by  twelve  sailors,  and 
with  no  other  defense,  landed  quietly  near  Libby 
Prison  and  started  on  foot  through  the  city,  Lincoln 
leading  little  Tad  by  the  hand.  Surely  no  other  con- 
quering chief's  triumphal  entry  to  a  fallen  stronghold 
was  made  with  so  little  pomp! 

Emerging  from  the  deserted  wharves  Lincoln  en- 
tered the  city.  As  he  walked  along  the  flames  still 
roared  through  the  city  and  mobs  only  half  glutted 
with  plunder  were  still  in  disorder.  It  was  an  anxious 
time  for  those  tensely  on  guard  for  the  President's 
safety  upon  the  foolhardy  venture  of  this  visit.  The 
white  inhabitants,  fiercely  resentful  of  Lincoln  as  the 
very  incarnation  of  their  ruin,  might  well  have  given 
vent  to  an  outburst  of  fatal  anger  at  his  expense  during 


RICHMOND  FALLS  359 

this  unprotected  stroll  through  the  devastated  streets. 

But  Lincoln  pressed  on,  unmolested  and  mobbed  only 
by  throngs  of  abandoned  or  runaway  slaves  who,  rec- 
ognizing the  Emancipator,  crushed  closer,  attempting 
to  touch  him,  to  throw  themselves  at  his  feet,  until  his 
advance  was  blocked.  Lincoln  came  to  a  standstill, 
embarrassed,  and  spoke  to  the  crowding  negroes  in 
gentle  reproof.  "Don't  kneel  to  me,"  he  begged. 
"That  is  not  right.  You  must  kneel  to  God  only  and 
thank  Him  for  the  liberty  you  will  hereafter  enjoy." 
He  proceeded  through  the  colored  crowds  with  diffi- 
culty and  was  greeted  with  shouts  and  an  outburst  of 
song.  Joining  hands  in  a  ring  about  him  the  childish 
people  danced  and  sang  lusty  hymns. 

At  one  place  the  President  paused  to  address  the 
mass  of  freedmen  who  surrounded  him  on  all  sides. 

"My  poor  friends,  you  are  free — free  as  air.  You 
can  cast  off  the  name  of  slave  and  trample  upon 
it;  it  will  come  to  you  no  more.  Liberty  is  your 
birthright.  God  gave  it  to  you  as  He  gave  it  to  others. 
It  is  a  sin  that  you  have  been  deprived  of  it  so  long. 
But  you  must  try  to  deserve  this  priceless  boon.  Let 
the  world  see  that  you  merit  it,  and  are  able  to  main- 
tain it  by  your  good  works.  Don't  let  your  joy  carry 
you  into  excesses.  Learn  the  laws  and  obey  them;  obey 
God's  commandments  and  thank  Him  for  giving  you 
liberty,  for  to  him  you  owe  all  things.  There,  now, 
let  me  pass  on.  I  have  but  little  time  to  spare.  I 
want  to  see  the  Capitol  and  must  return  at  once  to 
Washington  to  secure  you  that  liberty  which  you  seem 
to  prize  so  highly." 

The  Federal   General  Weitzel,   whom   Grant   had 


360     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

sent  with  troops  to  Richmond,  had  been  busy  extin- 
guishing the  devastating  fires.  He  had  taken  over  the 
Davis  mansion  as  headquarters  and  there  greeted 
President  Lincoln  and  asked  what  his  orders  were  for 
behavior  toward  the  inhabitants  of  the  captured  city. 
"Well,  Weitzel,',  said  Lincoln,  compassionately,  "if  I 
were  you,  I'd  let  'em  up  easy,  let  'em  up  easy." 

Sailing  up  the  river  to  Washington,  the  President 
passed  the  broad  lawns  and  white  columns  of  Mt. 
Vernon  at  sunset  and  before  dark  docked  at  the 
Potomac  wharf  within  sight  of  Robert  E.  Lee's 
Arlington  home  then  taken  over  as  a  Union  Hospital. 
At  the  wharf  Mrs.  Lincoln's  sharp  anxiety  gave  way 
to  relief  at  sight  of  her  husband's  tall  figure  striding 
toward  her.  She  told  him  that  Secretary  Seward  had 
been  thrown  from  his  carriage  that  afternoon  and  seri- 
ously injured,  little  guessing  the  strange  sequel  that 
was  to  follow  this  grave  accident. 

As  they  drove  from  the  dock  to  the  White  House 
Mrs.  Lincoln,  who  had  been  somewhat  hysterical  over 
the  President's  safety  while  away,  broke  out  with  a 
remark  to  the  effect  that  Richmond  was  filled  with 
Lincoln  enemies.  The  weary  man  rebuked  her  almost 
impatiently:  "Enemies!  We  must  never  speak  of 
that!" 

This  was  on  the  night  of  the  surrender. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

THE  SURRENDER 

In  the  meanwhile  Grant  had  grimly  pursued  Lee 
and  Lee  had  withdrawn  southward  in  an  attempt  to 
join  his  shattered  forces  with  Johnson  at  Danville. 

Food  supplies  were  to  be  ready  for  Lee  at  Amelia 
Court  House  and  toward  that  spot  the  remnants  of 
his  ragged  army  now  proceeded.  A  Confederate  sol- 
dier in  that  march  wrote: 

"We  were  in  excellent  spirits,  probably  from  the 
highly  agreeable  contrast  of  the  budding  April  woods 
with  the  squalid  trenches,  and  the  long-unfelt  joy  of 
an  unfettered  march  through  the  fields  of  spring. 
General  Lee  shared  this  hopeful  feeling  in  a  very  re- 
markable degree.  His  expression  was  animated  and 
buoyant,  his  seat  in  the  saddle  erect  and  commanding 
and  he  seemed  to  look  forward  to  assured  success  in 
the  critical  movement  which  he  had  undertaken.'* 

"It  was  plain,"  writes  another  staunch  soldier,  "that 
the  fighting  spirit  of  the  ragged  troops  remained  un- 
broken, and  the  shout  of  welcome  with  which  they 
received  the  appearance  of  Lee  indicated  their  un- 
wavering confidence  in  him,  despite  the  untoward  con- 
dition of  affairs." 

On  marched  the  dauntless,  starving  soldiers  who  had 
little  food  after  leaving  Petersburg  on  Sunday  but 
parched  corn!  On  Wednesday  they  reached  Amelia 
Court  House,  a  peaceful  little  village  in  the  midst  of  a 

361 


362     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

lovely  and  serene  countryside.  But  here  the  hungry 
troops  found  no  food  and  General  Lee  reported: 

"Not  finding  the  supplies  ordered  to  be  placed  here 
nearly  twenty- four  hours  were  lost  endeavoring  to  col- 
lect in  the  country  subsistence  for  men  and  horses. 
The  delay  was  fatal." 

In  that  twenty-four  hours  which  might  have  af- 
forded time  to  get  through  to  Danville,  Grant's  army, 
which  had  split  into  three  parts,  shut  Lee  in  on  north, 
east  and  west,  while  Sheridan  himself  blocked  the 
Danville  road. 

Bread  and  meat,  secured  at  Farmville,  put  new  heart 
into  the  worn  Confederates,  desperately  surrounded 
though  they  were,  and  when  suggestion  of  surrender 
was  tendered  Lee  by  his  corps-commanders,  he  replied 
with  spirit,  "Surrender !  I  have  too  many  good  fight- 
ing men  for  that!"  He  had  about  twenty-five  hundred 
effective  men.  He  was  surrounded  by  nearly  ten  thou- 
sand. Now  Grant's  eager  men,  as  Grant  himself  says : 
"began  to  see  the  end  of  what  they  had  been  four  years 
fighting  for.  Nothing  seemed  to  fatigue  them.  They 
were  ready  to  move  without  rations  and  travel  with- 
out rest  to  the  end.  Straggling  had  entirely  ceased,  and 
every  man  was  now  a  rival  for  the  front.  The  in- 
fantry marched  about  as  rapidly  as  the  cavalry  could." 

It  was  then  that  Sheridan  sent  his  famous  dispatch 
to  Grant  forwarded  to  Lincoln:  "I  think  if  this  thing 
is  pushed,  Lee  will  surrender."  Lincoln  wired  back 
tersely:  "Let  the  thing  be  pushed." 

As  he  wrote  that  laconic  message  the  light  of  hope 
brightened  the  darkness  of  the  President's  sad  face 
and  he  said  thankfully,  "The  end  has  almost  come/' 


THE  SURRENDER  363 

Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  calling  upon  Lincoln  later 
spoke  of  it  saying,  "What  great  relief  you  must  feel 
at  the  prospect  of  the  early  close  of  war  and  establish- 
ment of  peace." 

"No,  Mrs.  Stowe,"  Lincoln  answered,  shaking  his 
head  sadly.  "I  shall  never  live  to  see  peace.  This  war 
is  killing  me."  He  then  remained  constantly  near  the 
Government  telegraph  station  for  hourly  news  from 
the  front. 

Sheridan  promptly  "pressed  the  thing." 

A  Union  force  blocked  every  turn  Lee  made.  The 
Confederates  at  last  came  up  against  a  dead  wall  at 
Appomattox  Court  House. 

Grant,  wishing  for  a  speedy  end  of  the  struggle, 
now  demanded  surrender.  Lee  parried  with  an  offer 
to  treat  for  peace.  Grant  refused.  Hostility  con- 
tinued. Their  viewpoints  are  graphically  shown  in 
this  exchange  of  notes: 

"Headquarters  Armies  of  the  U.  S., 
"General  R.  E.  Lee,  "5  p.m.,  April  7,  1865. 

"Commanding  C.  S.  A. 

"The  results  of  the  last  week  must  convince  you  of 
the  hopelessness  of  further  resistance  on  the  part  of 
the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia  in  this  struggle.  I 
feel  that  it  is  so,  and  regard  it  as  my  duty  to  shift 
from  myself  the  responsibility  of  any  further  effusion 
of  blood,  by  asking  of  you  the  surrender  of  that  por- 
tion of  the  Confederate  States  Army  known  as  the 
Army  of  Northern  Virginia.  U.  S.  Grant, 

"Lieut-General, 
"Commanding  Armies  of  U.  S." 


364     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

"April  7,  1865. 
"General:  I  have  received  your  note  of  this  day. 
Though  not  entertaining  the  opinion  you  express  in 
the  hopelessness  of  further  resistance  on  the  part  of 
the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia,  I  reciprocate  your 
desire  to  avoid  useless  effusion  of  blood  and  therefore 
before  considering  your  proposition  ask  the  terms  you 
will  offer  on  condition  of  its  surrender. 

"R.  E.  Lee, 
"General." 

To  this  Grant  replied:  "Peace  being  my  great  de- 
sire, there  is  but  one  condition  I  would  insist  upon, 
namely:  that  the  men  and  officers  surrendered  shall 
be  disqualified  for  taking  up  arms  again  against  the 
government  of  the  United  States." 

Emphasizing  the  "desire  for  peace,"  Lee  then  sug- 
gested peace  negotiations  and  received  this  answer: 

"Headquarters  Armies  of  U.  S., 
"R.  E.  Lee,  "April  9,  1865. 

"Commanding  C.  S.  A. 

"Your  note  of  yesterday  is  received.  As  I  have  no 
authority  to  treat  on  the  subject  of  peace,  the  meeting 
proposed  for  10  a.m.  to-day  could  lead  to  no  good.  I 
will  state,  however,  General,  that  I  am  equally  anxious 
for  peace  with  yourself,  and  the  whole  North  enter- 
tains the  same  feeling.  The  terms  upon  which  peace 
can  be  had  are  well  understood.  By  the  South  laying 
down  their  arms  they  will  hasten  that  most  desirable 
event,  save  thousands  of  lives,  and  hundreds  of  mil- 
lions of  property  not  yet  destroyed.     Sincerely  hoping 


THE  SURRENDER  365 

that  all  our  difficulties  may  be  settled  without  the  loss 
of  another  life,  I  subscribe  myself,  etc., 

"U.  S.  Grant, 
"Lieut-General." 

Checkmated  at  every  move,  Lee  realized  that  there 
was  nothing  to  do  but  surrender.  His  soldierly  spirit 
sank  with  sorrow  at  defeat,  yet  his  heart  was  torn  for 
his  suffering  men  and  he  sought  to  put  an  end  to  their 
hardships  at  last  On  Sunday  morning,  April  9th, 
with  heavy  heart  Lee  said :  "There  is  nothing  left  but 
to  go  to  General  Grant  and  I  would  rather  die  a  thou- 
sand deaths.  How  easily,"  he  sighed,  "I  could  get  rid 
of  this  and  be  at  rest.  I  have  only  to  ride  along  the 
line  and  all  will  be  over.  But  it  is  our  duty  to  live. 
What  will  become  of  the  women  and  children  of  the 
South  if  we  are  not  here  to  protect  them?" 

The  white  flag  was  reluctantly  unfurled,  and  early 
Sunday  morning  a  courier  rode  to  the  opposite  lines 
with  General  Lee's  note  requesting  an  interview  for 
surrender. 

The  hopeful,  happy  air  that  had  marked  the  Con- 
federate commander  a  few  days  earlier  now  gave  place 
to  controlled  sadness. 

This  was  relieved  by  a  flash  of  humor  at  his  own 
display  when  he  donned  a  new  gray  uniform  to  grace 
the  interview.  Uniforms  were  so  scarce  that  most  of 
his  army  had  long  since  ceased  to  possess  much  of 
theirs  besides  the  buttons.  Some  even  lacked  every 
brass  button.  Few  had  shoes.  Any  old  garment,  often 
in  dirty  tatters,  was  the  uniform  of  the  Confederate 
army  by  1865.    As  Lee  passed  in  the  splendor  of  his 


366     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

brand  new  uniform,  the  handsome  gift  sword  hang- 
ing at  his  side,  his  men  let  out  cheer  after  cheer,  little 
guessing  his  mission.  Raising  his  soft  gray  slouch 
hat  in  the  old  familiar  salute,  Lee,  on  his  famous  gray 
war  horse,  "Traveler,"  rode  through  the  country  vil- 
lage to  meet  Grant. 

In  the  meanwhile,  what  had  Grant  been  doing? 

Saturday  night  had  found  him  delayed  at  a  farm- 
house some  distance  behind  his  troops  suffering  from 
a  violent  sick  headache.  "I  spent  the  night,"  he  says, 
"bathing  my  feet  in  hot  water  and  mustard  and  putting 
mustard  plasters  on  my  wrists  and  the  back  part  of 
my  neck,  hoping  to  be  cured  by  morning."  Sunday 
morning  dawned  with  the  headache  still  raging,  and  in 
a  miserable  condition  Grant  rode  on  dizzily  to  catch 
up  with  his  troops.  He  was  met  by  an  officer  relay- 
ing Lee's  note.  "When  the  officer  reached  me,"  says 
Grant,  "I  was  still  suffering  with  the  sick  headache, 
but  the  instant  I  saw  the  contents  of  the  note  I  was 
cured'' 

He  sent  a  messenger  galloping  back  with  a  hastily 
scrawled  note  telling  where  he  was  and  saying,  "Notice 
sent  to  me  on  this  road  where  you  wish  the  interview 
to  take  place  will  meet  me."  This  messenger  found 
Lee  resting  on  an  army  blanket  beneath  an  apple  tree. 
He  rose  and  prepared  for  the  interview  that  after- 
noon. The  two  commanders  met  at  the  McLean  farm- 
house where  General  Lee  ushered  General  Grant  into 
a  small  bare  parlor  off  the  front  hall.  Robert  E.  Lee, 
who  might  himself  have  led  the  army  of  the  Potomac, 
now  as  chief  of  the  opposing  forces,  faced  Grant  who 
held  that  command. 


THE  SURRENDER  367 

The  two  men  were  in  marked  contrast.  One,  short, 
stocky  and  a  little  round-shouldered,  wore  a  shabby 
blue  uniform.  His  shrewd  and  kindly  face  was  grizzly 
with  a  scrubby  brown  beard ;  he  chewed  the  ever-pres- 
ent black  cigar.  The  other  figure,  in  immaculate  Con- 
federate gray,  was  tall  and  proudly  erect.  His  high- 
bred thoughtful  face,  bronzed  by  exposure  and  overcast 
by  sadness  took  on  a  suggestion  of  age  from  his  silver 
hair  and  beard.  He  appeared  as  well  groomed  as  if 
he  had  not  been  underfed  and  overstrained  in  constant 
battle.  There  he  stood,  booted  and  spurred,  sword 
ceremoniously  at  his  side,  ready  for  surrender,  sorrow- 
ful yet  proud.  "His  demeanor  was  that  of  a  thor- 
oughly possessed  gentleman  who  had  a  disagreeable 
duty  to  perform,  but  was  determined  to  get  through 
it  as  soon  as  he  could,  without  exhibition  of  temper  or 
mortification.,, 

As  Lee  is  silent  on  what  finally  took  place  at  Ap- 
pomattox, certainly  Grant  is  better  qualified  than  any- 
body else  to  describe  that  meeting,  and  we  shall  let  him 
speak  for  himself  in  these  words  from  his  Memoirs. 

"When  I  left  camp  that  morning  I  had  not  expected 
so  soon  the  result  that  was  then  taking  place,  and  con- 
sequently was  in  rough  garb.  I  was  without  a  sword, 
as  I  usually  was  when  on  horseback  in  the  field,  and 
wore  a  soldier's  blouse  for  a  coat  with  the  shoulder 
straps  of  my  rank  to  indicate  to  the  army  who  I  was. 
When  I  went  into  the  house  I  found  General  Lee.  We 
greeted  each  other  and  after  shaking  hands  took  our 
seats.  I  had  my  staff  with  me,  a  good  portion  of  whom 
were  in  the  room  during  the  whole  of  the  interview. 

"General  Lee  was  dressed  in  a  full  uniform  which 


368     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

was  entirely  new,  and  was  wearing  a  sword  of  con- 
siderable value,  very  likely  the  sword  presented  by  the 
State  of  Virginia.  At  all  events  it  was  an  entirely 
different  sword  from  the  one  that  would  be  ordinarily 
worn  in  the  field.  In  my  rough  traveling  suit,  the 
uniform  of  a  private  with  the  straps  of  a  lieutenant- 
general,  I  must  have  contrasted  very  strangely  with  a 
man  so  handsomely  dressed,  six  feet  high  and  of  fault- 
less form. 

"What  General  Lee's  feelings  were,  I  do  not  know. 
As  he  was  a  man  of  much  dignity,  with  an  impassive 
face,  it  was  impossible  to  say  whether  he  felt  inwardly 
glad  that  the  end  had  finally  come,  or  felt  sad  over 
the  result  and  was  too  manly  to  show  it.  Whatever 
his  feelings,  they  were  entirely  concealed  from  my  ob- 
servation, but  my  own  feelings  which  had  been  quite 
jubilant  on  the  receipt  of  his  letter,  were  sad  and  de- 
pressed. I  felt  like  anything  rather  than  rejoicing  at 
the  downfall  of  a  foe  who  had  fought  so  long  and  so 
valiantly.  .  .  . 

"We  soon  fell  into  a  conversation  about  old  army 
times.  He  remarked  that  he  remembered  me  very  well 
in  the  old  army;  and  I  told  him  that  I  remembered 
him  perfectly  but  from  the  difference  in  our  rank  and 
years  (there  being  about  sixteen  years  difference  in 
our  ages)  I  had  thought  it  very  likely  that  I  had  not 
attracted  his  attention  sufficiently  to  be  remembered  by 
him  after  such  a  long  interval.  Our  conversation  grew 
so  pleasant  that  I  almost  forgot  the  object  of  our  meet- 
ing. After  the  conversation  had  run  on  in  this  style 
for  some  time,  General  Lee  called  my  attention  to  the 
object  of  our  meeting  and  said  that  he  had  asked  for 


THE  SURRENDER  369 

this  interview  for  the  purpose  of  getting  from  me  the 
terms  I  proposed  to  give  his  army.  I  said  that  I 
meant  merely  that  his  army  should  lay  down  their  arms, 
not  to  take  them  up  again  during  the  continuance  of 
the  War  unless  duly  and  properly  exchanged.  He 
said  that  he  had  so  understood  my  letter. 

"Then  we  gradually  fell  off  again  into  conversation 
about  matters  foreign  to  the  subject  which  had  brought 
us  together.  This  continued  for  some  little  time,  when 
General  Lee  again  interrupted  the  course  of  the  con- 
versation by  suggesting  that  the  terms  I  had  proposed 
to  give  his  army  ought  to  be  written  out." 

Thereupon  Grant  began  to  write  informally  at  the 
parlor  table  with  a  stubby  pencil,  scratching  out,  eras- 
ing and  writing  in  again  terms  occurring  to  him  as  he 
went  along.  And  as  he  wrote,  sympathy  and  gen- 
erosity so  guided  his  hand  that  "Unconditional  Sur- 
render" Grant  set  down  only  such  liberal  conditions 
as  meant  peace. 

This  historic  document,  scrawled  untidily,  with! 
smudged  words  crossed  out  and  others  scribbled  in, 
covered  three  small  yellow  sheets  from  Grant's  pocket- 
size  order  book  and  reads : 

"Appomattox  Court  House,  Va., 
"Apl.  9th,  1865. 
"Gen.  R.  E.  Lee, 
"Comd'g  C.  S.  A. 

"Gen.  :  In  accordance  with  the  substance  of  my  letter 
to  you  of  the  8th  inst.,  I  propose  to  receive  the  sur- 
render of  the  Army  of  N.  Va.  in  the  following  terms, 
to  wit: 


370     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

"Rolls  of  all  officers  and  men  to  be  made  in  dupli- 
cate. One  copy  to  be  given  to  an  officer  designated  by 
me,  the  other  to  be  retained  by  such  officer  or  officers 
as  you  may  designate.  The  officers  to  give  their  indi- 
vidual paroles  not  to  take  up  arms  against  the  Govern- 
ment of  the  United  States  until  properly  exchanged 
and  each  company  or  regimental  commander  to  sign 
a  like  parole  for  the  men  of  his  command.  The  arms, 
artillery  and  public  property  to  be  parked  and  stacked 
and  turned  over  to  the  officer  appointed  by  me  to  re- 
ceive them.  This  will  not  embrace  the  side  arms  of 
the  officers  nor  their  private  horses  or  baggage.  This 
done,  each  officer  and  man  will  be  allowed  to  return 
to  their  homes,  not  to  be  disturbed  by  United  States 
authority  so  long  as  they  observe  their  paroles  and  the 
laws  in  force  where  they  reside. 

"Very  respectfully, 
"U.  S.  Grant, 
"Lt.-Gen." 

In  other  words,  the  captured  soldiers  were  free  to 
go  home,  prisoners  of  war  in  name  only. 

Grant  says: 

"When  I  put  my  pen  to  the  paper  I  did  not  know 
the  first  words  that  I  should  make  use  of  in  writing  the 
terms.  ...  As  I  wrote  on,  the  thought  occurred  to 
me  that  the  officers  had  their  own  private  horses  and 
effects  which  were  important  to  them,  but  of  no  value 
to  us ;  also  that  it  would  be  an  unnecessary  humiliation 
to  call  upon  them  to  deliver  their  side  arms. 

"The  much-talked-of  surrendering  of  Lee's  sword 
and  my  handing  it  back,  this  and  much  more  that  has 


THE  SURRENDER  371 

been  said  about  it  is  the  purest  romance.  The  word 
sword  or  side  arms  was  not  mentioned  by  either  of  us 
until  I  wrote  it  in  the  terms.  There  was  no  premedi- 
tation and  it  did  not  occur  to  me  until  the  moment  I 
wrote  it  down.  No  conversation,  not  one  word  passed 
between  General  Lee  and  myself,  either  about  private 
property  or  kindred  subjects." 

Grant  finished  writing  and  at  his  suggestion,  in  dis- 
cussing the  first  draft,  General  Parker  added  inter- 
lineations and  made  some  erasures.  After  this  altera- 
tion it  was  handed  to  General  Lee,  who  put  on  his 
glasses,  read  it  carefully  and  handed  it  back.  General 
Parker  than  made  a  copy  of  the  rough  original  upon 
official  paper  in  ink  for  General  Lee. 

Grant  says  that  then,  after  a  little  conversation, 
"General  Lee  remarked  to  me  that  their  army  was  or- 
ganized a  little  differently  from  the  army  of  the  United 
States  (still  maintaining  by  implication  that  we  were 
two  countries) ;  that  in  their  army  the  cavalrymen  and 
artillerists  owned  their  own  horses;  and  he  asked  if  he 
was  to  understand  that  the  men  who  so  owned  their 
horses  were  to  be  permitted  to  retain  them?  I  told 
him  that  as  the  terms  were  written  they  would  not; 
that  only  the  officers  were  permitted  to  take  their  pri- 
vate property.  He  then,  after  reading  over  the  terms 
a  second  time,  remarked  that  that  was  clear." 

Lee  hesitated,  and  Grant  knew  what  was  passing 
through  his  mind.  Most  of  the  Confederates  were 
farmers,  and  in  their  raided  country  few  could  get  in 
a  crop  that  spring  to  carry  their  families  through  the 
winter  if  dispossessed  of  the  horses  they  were  then 
riding. 


372     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

"The  men  shall  keep  their  horses  for  plowing,' ' 
Grant  assured  him.  "The  United  States  does  not  need 
them,  and  I  shall  instruct  the  officers  I  appoint  to  re- 
ceive the  paroles  of  your  troops  to  let  every  man  of 
the  Confederate  army  who  claims  to  own  a  horse  or 
mule  to  take  the  animal  home." 

There  was  emotion  in  Lee's  quiet  voice  as  he  thanked 
Grant  for  this  courtesy  which  would  mean  much  to 
the  men  returning  to  devastated  farms.  Lee  then 
turned  to  the  parlor  table  and  wrote  his  acceptance. 

Outside  the  open  parlor  window  the  sweetness  of 
Virginia  spring  was  visible  and  fragrant.  The  new 
green  on  the  country  side  of  the  State  Lee  loved  so 
well  confronted  him  as  he  surrendered.  He  handed 
his  statement  to  Grant,  realizing  sadly  that  now  the 
Old  South  would  be  no  more. 

These  two  informal  notes  comprise  all  there  was  to 
the  historic  surrender.  Rising  to  go,  Lee  paused  once 
more  and  then  said,  "General,  I  am  afraid  you  will 
have  to  let  me  have  rations  for  my  men.  They  are  in 
a  very  bad  condition  for  want  of  it.  In  fact,  for  days 
they  have  been  living  exclusively  on  parched  corn." 

Grant  assented  with  a  prompt,  "Certainly,  how  many 
men  have  you  to  feed?" 

"About  2,500,  not  including  stragglers  and  deserters 
who  are  bound  to  join  us  again  later." 

"Send  your  own  Commissary  and  quartermaster 
over  to  Appomattox  Station  and  help  yourselves  to  all 
the  provisions  you  want  out  of  your  own  trains  which 
we  are  holding  up  there,"  Grant  said,  and  chewing 
restlessly  at  his  cigar  he  drew  pen  and  paper  to  him 
scratched  off  his  order  authorizing  this. 


THE  SURRENDER  373 

Lee  thanked  him  gravely  and  the  interview  was  over. 
Grant  concludes:  "Lee  and  I  then  separated  as  cor- 
dially as  we  had  met  and  all  went  into  bivouac  for  the 
night  at  Appomattox. " 

"General  Grant's  behavior  at  Appomattox  was 
marked  by  a  desire  to  spare  the  feelings  of  his  great 
opponent.  There  was  no  theatrical  display ;  his  troops 
were  not  paraded  with  bands  playing  and  banners  fly- 
ing before  whose  lines  the  Confederates  must  march 
and  stack  arms.  He  did  not  demand  Lee's  sword,  as 
is  customary,  but  actually  apologized  to  him  for  not 
having  his  own,  saying  it  had  been  left  behind  in  the 
wagon.  He  promptly  stopped  salutes  from  being  fired 
to  mark  the  event  and  the  terms  granted  were  liberal 
and  generous.  'No  man  could  have  behaved  better 
than  General  Grant  did  under  the  circumstances,'  said 
Lee  to  a  friend.  'He  did  not  touch  my  sword;  the 
usual  custom  is  for  the  sword  to  be  received  when 
tendered  and  handed  back;  but  he  did  not  touch  mine/ 
Neither  did  the  Union  chief  enter  the  Southern  lines 
to  show  himself  or  parade  his  victory  or  go  to  Rich- 
mond or  Petersburg  to  exult  over  a  fallen  people,  but 
mounted  his  horse  and  with  his  staff  started  for  Wash- 
ington. George  Washington  was  not  as  considerate 
at  Yorktown." 

These  words  were  written  not  by  any  Northern  en- 
thusiast but  by  no  less  person  than  Fitzhugh  Lee,  the 
Confederate  general's  own  nephew  and  cavalry  com- 
mander. 

Thus  the  two  great  commanders  met  and  parted  and 
the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia  and  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  now  turned  their  backs  on  one  another  for 


374     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

the  first  time  in  four  bloody  years.  As  soon  as  Lee 
had  gone  Grant  telegraphed  his  news  to  Washington, 
where  it  reached  the  President  just  as  he  returned  from 
Richmond. 

Robert  E.  Lee  rode  back  to  his  lines,  not  quite  so 
erect  in  his  saddle.  At  the  approach  of  their  beloved 
commander,  his  tattered  soldiers,  who  had  hardly  a 
thought  of  surrender,  now  rushed  forward  overcome 
with  grief  at  the  news.  The  thin,  ragged  veterans 
surged  about  his  horse,  reaching  out  to  wring  his  hand 
while  tears  ran  down  the  grim  cheeks  of  hardened 
fighters.  Only  sobs,  or  prayers  and  broken  words  of 
benediction  for  the  General  were  heard. 

Sitting,  head  bared,  upon  tired  "Traveler,"  sur- 
rounded by  loyal  stricken  men,  Lee's  own  eyes  filled 
with  tears  at  the  agony  of  his  disappointed  troops. 
He  spoke  to  them  in  broken  tones : 

"Men,  we  have  fought  through  the  war  together. 
I  have  done  the  best  I  could  for  you.  My  heart  is  too 
full  to  say  more."  Not  till  the  next  day  had  he  heart 
for  his  final  address,  concluding: 

"With  unceasing  admiration  of  your  constancy  and 
devotion  to  your  country,  and  a  grateful  remembrance 
of  your  kind  and  generous  consideration  of  myself,  I 
bid  you  an  affectionate  farewell." 

Silently,  hat  in  hand,  he  rode  away  from  his  weep- 
ing troops  who  loved  him  more  in  this  hour  of  humilia- 
tion than  at  any  time  of  triumph. 

The  scene  shifts  now  from  that  Sunday  night  sur- 
render in  the  Virginia  countryside  to  Monday  morn- 
ing's Cabinet  meeting  at  Washington. 

This  had  been  called  an  hour  earlier  than  usual 


THE  SURRENDER  375 

and  the  members  were  assembled  before  Lincoln  en- 
tered. As  he  came  in,  the  expression  on  his  face  fore- 
told important  news.  "Gentlemen,"  he  said  tremu- 
lously, ''I  have  something  to  read  to  you.  It  is  a 
dispatch  from  General  Grant  which  says,  'General  Lee 
surrendered  this  afternoon  on  terms  proposed  by  my- 
self.' "  For  a  moment  no  one  could  speak,  Lincoln 
least  of  all.  The  bearded  faces  of  the  men  before  him 
twitched  with  emotion,  lips  worked  and  trembled,  tears 
trickled  down  care-furrowed  cheeks.  Then  Lincoln 
spoke  brokenly :  "Gentlemen,  let  us  pray."  Every  man 
bent  his  head,  some  knelt  upon  the  floor  and  each 
buried  wet  cheeks  in  his  hands,  bowed  long  in  silent 
prayer. 

As  the  news  flashed  through  the  city  people  rushed 
shouting  and  singing  through  the  streets  and  stopping 
one  another,  strangers  all,  to  squeeze  hands  and  mingle 
tears  in  a  mutual  joy  that  set  the  populace  crazy.  Im- 
provised street  processions  caught  up  volunteers  and 
rushed  along  hoarsely  cheered  from  curb  to  curb. 
Buildings  were  clothed  in  bunting;  flags  flapped  from 
any  string  or  pole  that  could  hold  cloth.  Horns  tooted, 
whistles  screamed,  bells  clanged,  business  stopped, 
people  running  on  the  pavements  cheered  insanely. 
Churches  flung  wide  their  doors  and  people  voluntarily 
flocked  in  from  the  streets  in  any  clothes  they  hap- 
pened to  be  wearing  when  the  news  was  shouted  to 
them — men  in  shirt  sleeves,  women  in  kitchen  aprons, 
children  in  pinafores,  yelled  in  the  streets,  and  knelt 
in  pews.  The  uproar  continued  day  and  night.  At 
dark  on  Tuesday,  April  nth,  the  White  House 
grounds  were  mobbed  by  a  hilarious  public.     Bands 


376     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

blared,  rockets  roared  and  spattered  rainbow  fire,  fire- 
works rattled  and  crackled,  cheering  rose  and  fell  with 
the  rushing  feet  of  the  serenaders  on  the  lawns.  Sud- 
denly an  explosion  of  unusual  laughter,  yells  and 
cheers  outdid  all  others  until  the  President,  going  up- 
stairs to  a  balcony,  asked  what  it  might  be.  It  was 
little  Tad,  "delirious  with  excitement/'  who  had 
dragged  a  Confederate  flag  once  presented  to  his 
mother  (who  had  two  half-brothers  in  the  Confederate 
army)  from  her  bureau  drawer,  and  hanging  perilously 
out  of  a  White  House  window  was  waving  it  madly 
to  the  frenzied  amusement  of  the  crowd  below.  Old 
Edward,  an  usher,  horrified,  seized  the  young  Rebel 
by  the  seat  of  his  breeches  and  jerked  him  and  his  flag 
unceremoniously  indoors  amid  the  frantic  and  long- 
drawn-out  applause  of  the  throngs  below.  Howling 
with  fury  at  this  indignity,  Tad  rushed  to  his  father 
who  was  preparing  to  address  the  multitude  and  who 
could  hardly  control  his  laughter  in  time  to  appear 
with  proper  dignity  at  the  window  over  the  main 
entrance. 

Lincoln  began  to  read  his  speech  because,  as  he 
said,  "Though  it  may  seem  queer  that  an  old  stump 
speaker  like  myself  should  not  be  able  to  address  a 
crowd  like  this  without  a  written  speech,  you  must 
remember  that  I  am,  in  a  certain  sense,  talking  to 
the  country,  and  I  have  to  be  mighty  careful.  Now 
the  last  time  I  made  an  off-hand  speech  in  answer  to 
a  serenade,  I  used  the  phrase  'turned  tail  and  ran/ 
Some  very  nice  Boston  folks,  I  am  grieved  to  hear, 
were  outraged  by  that  phrase  which  they  thought  im- 


THE  SURRENDER  377 

proper,  so  I  resolved  to  make  no  more  impromptu 
speeches  if  I  could  help  it." 

As  Lincoln  began  to  read  his  speech  he  held  the 
manuscript  in  one  hand  and  a  candle  in  the  other. 
But  managing  both  was  too  difficult  so  he  handed 
the  candle  to  a  by-stander  to  hold  for  him,  and  as 
soon  as  he  finished  a  sheet  of  his  manuscript,  he  would 
let  it  drop  to  the  floor,  where  Tad  began  to  collect 
them.  Several  times  in  impatience  he  pulled:his  father's 
coat  tails  and  urged,  "Give  me  another  paper,  Papa!" 

Behind  him,  Mrs.  Lincoln  nervously  rung  her  cold 
hands  as  she  eyed  the  excited  crowd  and  afterwards 
sharply  chided  her  husband  for  exposing  himself  care- 
lessly to  mobs,  exclaiming:  "Yon  might  have  been 
shot!" 

The  President,  however,  mildly  amused  by  all  the 
tremendous  cheering,  simply  smiled  at  his  candle  bearer 
and  said  whimsically:  "That  was  a  pretty  fair  speech 
but  I  think  you  shed  some  light  on  it!"  As  the  cheer- 
ing now  took  on  renewed  vigor,  Mr.  Lincoln  stepped 
out  once  more  and  dismissed  the  throngs  with  a  word 
that  set  voices  shouting,  horns  tooting  and  drums 
booming  madly.  He  said,  "The  songs  of  the  South 
are  our  songs  too,  now.    Let  the  band  play  Dixie  I" 


PSRT   VII 

The  Curtain  Falls 

"With  malice  toward  none ;  with  charity  for  all.' 


CHAPTER  XXXV 
Lincoln's  last  day 

"Peace  at  last!"  This  blessed  news  spread  across 
the  country  bringing  with  it  that  sudden  relaxation 
from  the  dreadful  tension  of  war,  best  understood  now 
by  those  who  remember  the  emotions  of  Armistice 
Day,  19 18. 

As  if  to  accentuate  the  end  of  the  war  and  new 
peace,  springtime  now  flooded  Washington,  bringing 
out  the  young  leaves  that  overlaced  the  wide  streets  and 
giving  green  vistas  to  parks  bright  and  fragrant  with 
early  blossoms.  The  hills  beyond  the  Potomac,  re- 
leased from  the  bondage  of  winter,  showed  hazy  green 
in  the  serene  spring  sunshine. 

Good  Friday  came  on  April  14th  that  year  and  if  in 
the  sunny  morning  the  day  seemed  given  over  to  re- 
joicing, in  forgetfulness  of  its  dark  portent,  night 
found  it  marked  again  forever  as  the  day  of  sacrifice 
and  death.  So  the  day  ended,  but  its  beginning  prom- 
ised only  cheer  in  the  Lincoln  household. 

General  Grant  had  come  to  Washington  that  morn- 
ing, no  longer  bent  on  war  work,  but  to  discuss  peace. 
The  draft  had  been  suspended,  and  the  purchase  of 
war  supplies  stopped.  Lincoln's  son,  Robert,  Grant's 
aide,  had  returned  to  Washington  with  his  com- 
mandant, and  reached  the  White  House  in  time  for 
breakfast.     Jhe  family  party  at  the  breakfast  table 

381 


382     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

was  more  than  usually  happy.  Young  Tad  eyed  his 
elder  brother's  uniform  enviously  and  tried  to  inter- 
rupt the  conversation  with  eager  small-boy  queries. 
The  mother  was  deeply  thankful  that  she  had  not  been 
called  upon  to  lose  this  son  in  war.  Lincoln  and 
Robert  companionably  discussed  the  details  of  the  close 
of  Grant's  campaign.  During  the  discussion  Robert 
handed  his  father  a  picture  of  Robert  E.  Lee  which 
the  President  studied  carefully.  "It  is  a  good  face," 
he  said,  "the  face  of  a  noble,  noble  brave  man.  Oh!" 
he  sighed,  "I  am  glad  that  the  war  is  over  at  last." 
Then,  handing  back  the  picture,  he  said,  "Well,  my 
son,  you  have  returned  safely  from  the  front.  The 
war  is  now  closed  and  we  soon  will  live  at  peace 
with  the  brave  men  who  have  been  fighting  against  us. 
I  trust  that  the  era  of  good  feeling  has  returned  with 
the  end  of  the  war,  and  that  henceforth  we  shall  live 
in  peace.  Now  listen  to  me,  Robert,  you  must  lay 
aside  your  uniform  and  return  to  college.  I  wish  you 
to  read  law  for  three  years  and  at  the  end  of  that 
time  I  hope  we  shall  be  able  to  tell  whether  you  will 
make  a  lawyer  or  not."  A  contrast  this,  to  Lincoln's 
own  introduction  to  Blackstone,  found  by  accident  in 
an  old  barrel  of  rubbish ! 

After  breakfast,  as  it  was  Friday  and  the  regular 
day  for  Cabinet  meeting,  Lincoln  attended  the  meeting 
for  his  last  time.  Every  member  commented  upon  the 
miraculous  change  in  the  President's  face.  For  so 
many  months  fatigue  and  grief  had  deeply  marked  his 
features  until  that  sorrowful  expression  and  sagging 
lines  of  utter  exhaustion  seemed  carved  in  immovable 


LINCOLN'S  LAST  DAY  383 

rock  never  to  alter,   for  as  he  had  said,  "I  think  I 
shall  never  be  glad  again,  and  I  hardly  believe  I  shall 
survive  this  war,  whichever  way  the  outcome  turns." 
His  drooping  shoulders,  sunken  eyes,  hollow,  haggard 
cheeks  showed  the  havoc  war  had  wrought  upon  him, 
his  very  skin  had  turned  a  stony  gray  as  if  drained  of 
his  heart's  blood.     On  this  morning,  however,  he  en- 
tered the  Cabinet  meeting  with  such  an  indescribable 
change  in  his  face  that  the  members  brightened  to  see 
the  brisk  and  upright  bearing  of  the  man  who  had 
drooped  so  long.     The   set  expression   of   continued 
melancholy  had  unbelievably  given  way  at  last  to  happi- 
ness once  more.     Lincoln  was,  after  all,  glad  again. 
So  on  the  very  day  that  ended  his   life,   Lincoln 
seemed  conscious  that  his  work  had  been  completed. 

Grant  was  present  with  the  Cabinet,  and  was  pressed 
with  questions  as  to  Sherman  who  was  still  engaged 
in  the  South  with  Johnston.    News  of  Sherman's  nego- 
tiations with  the  Confederate  General  was  expected 
hourly  in  Washington  and  speculations  as  to  its  out- 
come were  rife.     Lincoln  half  laughingly,  half  seri- 
ously declared  that  he  was  sure  Sherman  would  prove 
successful   because  the   night  before  he   had   had   a 
peculiar  dream  which,  he  said,  all  through  the  war 
invariably  came  to  him  just  before  some  event  of  great 
importance.   In  this  oft-repeated  dream  Lincoln  seemed 
to  be  floating  swiftly  toward  a  dark  shore  aboard  a 
battleship.     Every  momentous  battle  had  been  fore- 
told him  in  this  way  and  while  the  dream  did  not 
always  precede  a  victory,  it  did  occur  just  prior  to  any 
incident  of  importance.     Lincoln   said,   "I  had  this 


384     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

strange  dream  again  last  night.  It  must  relate  to  Sher- 
man for  I  know  of  no  other  important  event  which  is 
likely  to  take  place  just  now." 

Not  one  of  the  group  gathered  there  that  morning 
thought  that  before  another  dawn  the  dream  might  be 
interpreted  as  forecasting  an  event  of  more  than  fear- 
ful importance.  Secretary  of  the  Navy  Welles,  and 
Attorney  General  Speed  were  disposed  to  discuss  the 
dream,  but  upon  the  arrival  of  Secretary  Stanton,  Lin- 
coln, half  embarrassed,  broke  off  with — "But  this  is 
not  business.  Let  us  proceed  to  business,  gentlemen." 
Speed,  however,  mentioned  the  dream  to  Stanton  with 
the  comment,  "It  will  be  curious  now  to  see  whether 
anything  does  come  of  this  prophecy,"  and  they  both 
agreed  to  watch  out  for  it.  (It  happened  later  that 
Sherman  told  his  opponent  Johnston  of  Lincoln's  death 
and  the  Confederate  General  sadly  said,  "That  is  a 
great  blow  which  sorely  smites  the  South  as  well  as 
the  North.") 

The  meeting  came  to  order  and  was  chiefly  devoted 
to  the  policy  of  reconstruction.  Secretary  Welles  states 
that  the  President  "hoped  there  would  be  no  persecu- 
tion, no  bloody  work,  after  the  war  was  over.  None 
need  expect  he  would  take  any  part  in  hanging  or  kill- 
ing these  men,  even  the  worst  of  them.  Frighten  them 
out  of  the  country,  let  down  the  bars,  scare  them  off, 
said  he,  throwing  up  his  hands  as  if  scaring  sheep. 
Enough  lives  have  been  sacrificed.  We  must  extin- 
guish our  resentment  if  we  expect  harmony  and  union. 
There  was  too  much  desire  on  the  part  of  our  very 
good  friends  in  the  North  to  be  masters,  to  interfere 
with  and  dictate  to  those  States,  to  treat  the  people 


LINCOLN'S  LAST  DAY  385 

not  as  fellow  citizens;  there  was  too  little  respect  for 
their  rights.  He  did  not  sympathize  in  these  feelings." 
The  meeting  was  dominated  by  Lincoln's  spirit  of 
humanity  and  kindly  brotherhood  as  well  as  by  the  un- 
wonted cheeriness  of  his  attitude  which  so  impressed 
his  fellows  that  they  remarked  it  as  the  meeting  broke 
up.  Attorney-General  James  Speed,  brother  of  Lin- 
coln's old  Springfield  companion  and  bedfellow,  Josh 
Speed,  remembered  only  too  well  Lincoln's  poverty- 
stricken  garments  and  unkempt  appearance  in  the  early 
days  and  had  reason  to  be  especially  impressed  with 
his  old  and  unconventional  friend's  appearance  that 
last  morning.  Writing  of  it  afterwards  he  said,  "I 
fondly  cling  to  the  memory  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  personal 
appearance  as  I  saw  him  that  day,  with  cleanly  shaved 
face,  well  brushed  clothing  and  neatly  combed  hair 
and  whiskers.  In  fact,  the  contrast  was  so  great  as 
to  cause  each  member  of  the  Cabinet  to  remark  it.  I 
well  remember  that  Mr.  Stanton  said  to  me  as  we  went 
downstairs  together''  (and  Stanton  it  was  who  on  his 
first  meeting  with  Lincoln,  the  country  lawyer,  said 
superciliously,  " Who  is  that  long-armed  creature  in 
the  dirty  linen  duster?")  : 

"  'Didn't  our  chief  look  grand  to-day?'  " 
After  this  meeting  Ward  Lamon,  Marshal  of  Wash- 
ington, sought  Lincoln's  signature  to  an  application 
for  a  soldier's  pardon.  This  was  the  same  Lamon, 
once  companion  lawyer  on  the  circuit,  who  had  put 
Lincoln  up  to  hiding  the  boarding-house  dinner  gong; 
the  Lamon  who  tore  the  seat  of  his  trousers  for  which 
Lincoln  mischievously  declined  to  contribute  to  "the 
end  in  view" ;  the  Lamon  who  as  Lincoln's  bodyguard 


386     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

had  accompanied  him  with  Detective  Pinkerton  on  that 
first  hazardous  trip  into  Washington ;  the  Lamon  who 
guarded  him  against  assassination  through  his  terms 
of  office.  The  President,  feeling  especially  cheery  that 
morning,  said  as  he  signed  the  pardon. 

"Lamon,  have  you  ever  heard  how  the  Patagonians 
eat  oysters  ?  They  open  them  and  throw  the  shells  out 
of  the  window  until  the  pile  gets  higher  than  the 
house  and  then  they  move.  Now  I  feel  just  like  com- 
mencing a  new  pile  of  pardons  and  I  may  as  well  begin 
here." 

Later,  Charles  A.  Dana,  Assistant  Secretary  of 
War,  came  to  him  with  a  telegram  from  the  Provost 
Marshal  of  Portland,  Maine,  reading,  "Positive  infor- 
mation Jacob  Thompson  will  pass  through  Portland 
to-night,  in  order  to  take  steamer  for  England,  what 
are  your  orders  ?" 

Now  Thompson  had  been  Buchanan's  Secretary  j>i 
the  Interior,  an  ardent  secessionist  and  one  who  had 
done  much  in  his  official  position  to  disorganize  the 
country  just  prior  to  Lincoln's  inauguration;  he  had 
been  chief  instigator  in  many  a  raid  since. 

"Well,"  said  the  President,  slowly,  wiping  his 
hands,  "when  you've  got  an  elephant  by  the  hind  leg 
and  he's  trying  to  run  away  it's  best  to  let  him 
run." 

Official  business  over  for  the  day,  and  lunch  once 
more  the  pleasant  family  gathering  breakfast  had  been, 
the  President  and  Mrs.  Lincoln  went  for  a  drive  that 
afternoon.  When  asked  whether  he  wanted  any  one 
in  particular  to  accompany  them,  Lincoln  said  affec- 
tionately : 


LINCOLN'S  LAST  DAY  387 

"No,  no,  Mother,  let's  be  by  ourselves  and  have  a 
good  talk." 

Driving  together  he  spoke  to  his  wife  of  his  dream, 
saying,  "It  seems  strange  how  much  there  is  in  the 
Bible  about  dreams  and  visions.  If  we  believe  the 
Bible  we  must  accept  the  fact  that  in  the  old  days  God 
and  His  Angels  came  to  men  in  their  sleep  and  made 
themselves  known  in  dreams."  He  seemed  so  restless 
and  worried  that  Mrs.  Lincoln  was  surprised  and  asked 
him  if  he  really  believed  in  dreams.  "Well,  Mother," 
Lincoln  confessed,  "I  don't  know  that  I  do,  but  I  had 
one  the  other  night  that  has  haunted  me  ever  since." 
Mrs.  Lincoln  urged  him  to  tell  her;  but  Lincoln 
seemed  reluctant.  He  referred  to  the  illusion  in  the 
mirror  which  he  had  noticed  in  Springfield  just  after 
his  election  in  which  he  had  seen  two  images  of  his 
own  face  reflected,  one  full  of  the  glow  of  life,  the 
other  a  shadow  of  ghoulish  pallor,  which  Mrs.  Lin- 
coln at  the  time  had  fearfully  interpreted  as  meaning 
two  terms  of  office,  with  death  in  the  second  one. 
In  view  of  this  unforgotten  "sign,"  Lincoln  seemed 
unduly  disturbed  over  the  dream,  which  after  consid- 
erable persuasion  he  finally  told  her: 

"About  ten  days  ago  I  retired  very  late.  I  had 
been  up  waiting  for  important  dispatches  from  the 
front.  I  could  not  have  been  long  in  bed  when  I  fell 
into  slumber,  for  I  was  weary.  I  soon  began  to  dream. 
There  seemed  to  be  a  death-like  stillness  about  me. 
Then  I  heard  subdued  sobs  as  if  a  number  of  people 
were  weeping.  I  thought  I  left  my  bed  and  wandered 
downstairs.  There  the  silence  was  broken  by  the  same 
pitiful  sobbing,  but  the  mourners  were  invisible.     I 


388     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

went  from  room  to  room  and  no  living  person  was 
in  sight,  but  the  same  mournful  sounds  of  distress 
met  me  as  I  passed  along.  It  was  light  in  the  rooms, 
every  object  was  familiar  to  me,  but  where  were  all 
the  people  who  were  grieving  as  if  their  hearts  would 
break?  I  was  puzzled  and  alarmed.  What  could  be 
the  meaning  of  all  this?  Determined  to  find  the  cause 
of  a  state  of  things  so  mysterious  and  so  shocking,  I 
kept  on  until  I  arrived  at  the  East  room,  which  I 
entered. 

"There  I  met  with  a  sickening  surprise.  Before  me 
was  a  catafalque  on  which  rested  a  corpse  wrapped  in 
funeral  vestments.  Around  it  were  stationed  soldiers 
as  guards,  and  there  was  a  throng  of  people,  some 
gazing  mournfully  at  the  corpse  whose  face  was  cov- 
ered, others  weeping  pitifully. 

"  'Who  is  dead  in  the  White  House?'  I  demanded 
of  one  of  the  soldiers.  'The  President/  was  his  an- 
swer. 'He  was  killed  by  an  assassin.'  Then  came  a 
loud  burst  of  grief  from  the  crowd  which  awoke  me 
from  my  dream.  I  slept  no  more  that  night  and 
although  it  was  only  a  dream,  I  have  been  strangely 
annoyed  by  it  ever  since." 

"Horrible!"  his  wife  shuddered.  "Oh,  dear,  I 
almost  wish  you  had  not  told  me!  I  am  glad  I  do 
not  believe  in  dreams  or  I  should  be  in  mortal  terror 
from  now  on !" 

"Well,  Mary,"  said  the  doomed  President,  "it  is 
nothing  but  a  dream,  let  us  say  no  more  about  it." 

After  this  confession,  a  burden  seemed  lifted  from 
Lincoln's  mind  and  he  appeared  once  more  unusually 
light-hearted.  His  mood  was  not  reflected  by  his 
wife  who  remained  depressed  and  when  chided  re- 


LINCOLN'S  LAST  DAY  389 

sponded  gloomily,  "You  were  in  just  such  a  happy 
frame  of  mind,  you  remember,  on  the  afternoon  be- 
fore Willie  died." 

Lincoln,  however,  refused  to  indulge  in  further 
melancholy  and  to  buoy  up  her  spirits  went  on  to  plan 
their  future,  saying: 

"Well,  Mary,  we  have  had  a  hard  time  of  it  since 
we  came  to  Washington,  but  the  war  is  over  and  with 
God's  blessing  we  may  hope  for  four  years  of  peace 
£  and  happiness  and  then  we  will  go  back  to  Illinois 
and  pass  the  rest  of  our  lives  in  quiet."  He  went  on 
to  talk  of  the  "little  house  on  Eighth  Street";  the  law 
office  where  the  dingy  signboard,  "Lincoln  and  Hern- 
don,  Attorneys,"  was  still  swinging  out  in  sun,  rain 
and  snow  faithfully  awaiting  his  return.  He  laughed 
boyishly  over  old  circuit  court  days  and  looked  for- 
ward eagerly  to  private  home  life  in  familiar  Spring- 
field once  more. 

"We  have  laid  by  some  money  and  during  this  term 
we  will  try  and  save  up  more,"  he  planned,  "but  even 
so  we  shall  not  have  enough  to  support  us.  I  will  go 
back  and  practice  law  and  earn  enough  for  our  liveli- 
hood." 

So  gayly  enthusiastic  did  he  become  in  talking  over 
their  future,  that  Mrs.  Lincoln  said,  "I  don't  believe  I 
ever  saw  you  happier  than  you  are  to-day!"  To  this 
he  replied : 

"And  well  may  I  feel  so,  Mary,  for  I  consider  that 
this  day  the  war  has  come  to  a  close.  Now  we  must 
be  more  cheerful  in  the  future,  for  between  the  ter- 
rible war  and  the  loss  of  our  darling  son  we  have 
suffered  much  misery.  Let  us  both  try  now  to  be 
happy." 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

THE   ASSASSINATION 

So,  happily  laying  plans  for  a  peaceful  and  unofficial 
future,  Lincoln  and  his  wife  drove  back  to  the  White 
House.  Stepping  out  of  the  carriage  he  spied  a  group 
of  his  friends,  among  them  Richard  Oglesby,  the 
Governor  of  his  home  state,  Illinois.  Governor 
Oglesby,  it  will  be  remembered,  had  been  chairman 
at  the  Republican  Convention  that,  with  the  help  of 
John  Hanks  and  his  rails,  had  nominated  Lincoln. 
These  men  were  walking  away  across  the  town  toward 
the  Treasury.  "Come  back,  boys!  Come  back!" 
Lincoln  hailed  them  like  a  carefree  school  boy.  They 
turned  and  hastened  back  smiling,  and  meeting  with 
hearty  handshakes  under  the  wide  portico  the  party 
went  inside. 

The  group  remained  in  hilarious  comradeship  for 
some  time,  until  as  it  grew  later  and  later  Mrs.  Lin- 
coln repeatedly  and  impatiently  sent  for  the  President 
to  come  to  dinner.  "Yes,  yes/'  he  would  assent  and 
then  forget  all  about  dinner  in  some  humorous  sally 
until  he  received  a  peremptory  order  to  "come  to  din- 
ner at  once!" 

The  doorkeeper  explained  apologetically  to  Gov- 
ernor Oglesby  that  the  President  had  an  engagement 
to  attend  a  theater  party  immediately  after  dinner  and 
as  he  had  dallied  so  long  he  was  in  danger  of  being 

390 


THE  ASSASSINATION  391 

late.  Sad  that  he  had  not  remained  laughing  and  talk- 
ing with  his  friends  there  at  home  all  the  evening ! 

The  theater  party,  however,  had  been  made  up  by 
Mrs.  Lincoln,  who  had  invited  General  and  Mrs.  Grant 
as  her  guests  to  see  Laura  Keene's  farewell  appear- 
ance in  a  benefit  performance  of  the  clever  and  amus- 
ing play,  "Our  American  Cousin,"  at  Ford's  Theater 
on  Tenth  and  E  Streets. 

Mrs.  Lincoln  had  only  ordered  the  box  that  morn- 
ing, but  the  theater  manager  had  promptly  taken  ad- 
vantage of  the  Presidential  party's  patronage  to  an- 
nounce in  all  the  afternoon  papers  that  the  evening's 
audience  would  have  an  opportunity  to  see  "the  Presi- 
dent and  his  lady,"  as  well  as  the  "Hero  of  Ap- 
pomattox," at  Miss  Keene's  benefit.  The  house  there- 
fore was  well  packed  with  light-hearted  spectators 
allowing  themselves,  like  Lincoln,  this  relaxation  from 
the  long  strain  of  war  and  mourning.  Despite  the 
fact  that  it  was  Good  Friday  the  theater  was  filled 
with  a  fun-loving  crowd. 

Especial  preparations  had  been  made  for  the  Presi- 
dent's party.  A  partition  had  been  removed  between 
the  allotted  boxes  at  the  left  of  the  stage,  comfortable 
upholstered  chairs  had  been  substituted  and  across  the 
whole  front  of  the  box  there  was  draped  an  American 
flag  which  later  played  its  part  in  the  evening's  tragedy. 

The  house  was  filled  by  eight  o'clock,  but,  as  we  have 
seen,  the  President  was  late !  He  had  not  dressed  nor 
finished  dinner  before  8  o'clock  and  as  General  Grant 
and  his  wife  had  broken  the  engagement  at  the  last 
minute  to  go  north  unexpectedly,  Lincoln  said,  "Mary, 
let's  give  up  the  party."     But  Mrs.  Lincoln  had  in- 


£92     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

vited  two  young  friends,  the  daughter  of  Senator  I. 
Harris  and  his  stepson  (her  fiance),  Major  H.  R. 
Rathbone,  to  take  the  place  of  General  and  Mrs.  Grant. 
She  therefore  impatiently  urged  Lincoln  to  "hurry, 
hurry!"  and  not  to  "disappoint  the  people/' 

In  the  meantime  a  slim,  dark,  sinister  figure  had 
skulked  about  the  theater  at  intervals  all  day  and  was 
not  far  away  at  the  hour  when  the  audience  sat  in 
rustling  expectancy  for  the  President  to  appear. 

John  Wilkes  Booth,  an  actor,  had  ready  and 
familiar  access  to  Ford's  Theater  and  as  soon  as  he 
learned  of  the  President's  attendance  had  laid  his  evil 
plans.  The  stage  scene  shifter,  Edward  Spangler,  not 
realizing  Booth's  sly  purpose  had  unwittingly  given 
him  aid  during  the  day  by  lending  him  tools  and  al- 
lowing him  freedom  behind  the  scenes.  Booth  had 
with  him  a  young  dandy,  David  C.  Herrold,  appointed 
to  serve  as  his  aide.  These  two  conferred  with 
Spangler  and  were  seen  whispering  at  the  theater 
door  before  the  President  arrived.  They  disappeared 
into  a  saloon. 

One  of  the  saddest  and  most  ironical  aspects  of 
Booth's  deed  was  the  fact  that  only  a  few  days  before 
this  he  had  been  granted  a  personal  interview  at  the 
White  House  where  the  President  had  cordially  shaken 
his  hand  and  said :  "I  am  happy  to  welcome  you  as 
the  son  of  the  elder  Booth  and  for  the  sake  of  your 
talented  brother." 

Booth  thus  kept  in  constant  and  close  touch  with  his 
victim.  On  the  day  before  the  assassination,  know- 
ing of  a  special  performance  to  be  given  at  the  National 
Theater,  Booth,  well  acquainted  with  all  the  theater 


THE  ASSASSINATION  393 

managers,  had  gone  there  to  gossip  and  then  in  an 
offhand  way  he  inquired  if  they  intended  to  invite  the 
President.  "Oh,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Hey,  the  manager, 
"and  that  reminds  me.  I  must  send  the  invitation." 
He  forthwith  did  so,  but  as  plans  were  already  made 
for  Ford's  Theater,  only  little  Tad  attended  the  Na- 
tional Theater's  performance  as  the  White  House  rep- 
resentative. He  was  watching  this  play  when  his 
father  was  shot  at  the  other  theater. 

Although  the  original  party  had  been  changed,  it 
was  now  such  a  matter  of  general  interest  that  the 
President  would  appear  that  night  in  the  theater  that 
Lincoln  finally  complied  in  order  not  to  disappoint  the 
public.  He  therefore  attended  the  theater,  half- 
heartedly, his  party  arriving  about  the  middle  of  the 
first  act.  His  entry  was  greeted  by  an  interruption  of 
the  performance,  and  loud  applause.  The  audience 
rose  to  its  feet,  women  waved  handkerchiefs,  the  or- 
chestra struck  up  "Hail  to  the  Chief !"  The  President 
stepped  to  the  front  of  the  box  and  bowed.  He  then 
sank  into  a  rocking  chair  to  the  front  and  left.  Mrs. 
Lincoln  took  her  seat  in  front  on  the  right.  Miss 
Harris  sat  close  by  Mrs.  Lincoln,  a  little  behind,  and 
Major  Rathbone  sat  near  his  fiancee,  behind  the  ladies 
on  an  old-fashioned  sofa  that  ran  along  the  right  wall. 

Ill-fated  was  the  party  in  the  box  that  night;  Lin- 
coln was  soon  to  be  shot ;  his  stricken  widow  in  conse- 
quence lived  out  her  days  in  madness;  one  of  the 
lovers  was  to  slay  the  other  and  end  his  life  a  raving 
maniac ! 

Unconscious  of  their  fates  the  party  settled  down  to 
the    entertainment.      The    play    then    continued,    the 


394     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

audience  delighted  with  the  fun  and  clever  nonsense. 
The  performance  went  merrily  on  with  no  intimation 
of  the  tragedy  even  then  approaching. 

When  certain  that  the  President  was  seated  within, 
Booth  began  his  work,  instructing  Herrold  to  join  him 
after  it.  He  had  hired  swift  horses  for  himself  and 
Herrold,  at  a  livery,  and  handing  the  bridle  of  his 
horse  to  the  mounted  Herrold  at  the  stage  door  ordered 
him  to  wait  there.  All  day  long  Booth  had  kept  him- 
self inflamed  with  liquor,  and  now,  reenforcing  him- 
self yet  again  with  another  glass  of  brandy  at  the 
saloon,  he  entered  the  theater  and  proceeded,  as 
planned,  upstairs.  He  walked  quickly  and  quietly 
along  the  passage  to  the  President's  box,  and,  en- 
countered by  the  guard,  audaciously  got  past  him  by 
the  assurance  with  which  he  handed  his  own  personal 
card!  Lincoln's  usual  bodyguards  were  off  duty  and 
the  substitute  had  gone  downstairs  and  was  at  that 
moment  watching,  not  the  President,  but  the  play. 
Booth  therefore  stepped  without  interruption  into  the 
passageway  behind  the  boxes  and  barred  the  passage 
door  shut  with  a  slat  he  had  put  ready  for  that  pur- 
pose beforehand.  He  then  stepped  cautiously  to  the 
box  and  peered  in  through  a  hole  he  had  previously 
bored  in  the  door  which  he  had  planned  to  fire  through 
if  his  entrance  was  blocked.  Bending  for  a  careful 
look  at  the  President's  position,  he  cocked  his  trigger 
and  with  pistol  in  one  hand  and  dagger  in  the  other, 
slunk  into  the  box  while  the  attention  of  all  there  was 
riveted  on  the  stage. 

Major  Rathbone  afterwards  told  that  the  last  he 
remembered  of  the  play  was  the  second  scene  of  the 


THE  ASSASSINATION  395 

third  act,  where  Sothern,  as  Lord  Dundreary,  ap- 
peared on  the  stage  with  Laura  Keene  as  the  heroine, 
Miss  Meredith,  leaning  upon  his  arm.  He  carried  her 
shawl,  and  as  the  heroine  sank  upon  a  rustic  bench,  she 
said  languidly,  "Me  Lord,  will  you  kindly  throw  my 
shawl  over  my  shoulders — there  appears  to  be  a 
draught  here."  "Dundreary,"  with  the  shawl,  ad- 
vanced in  his  famous  mincing  steps,  and  with  a  smile 
directed  up  at  Lincoln  responded  in  clever  impromptu 
apropos  of  the  happy  occasion  of  the  armistice,  "You 
are  mistaken,  Miss  Mary,  the  draft  has  already  been 
stopped,  by  order  of  the  President !"  Lincoln  laughed, 
and  as  he  laughed  a  pistol  shot  cracked.  The  laugh 
died  from  the  President's  face,  his  eyes  closed  and  his 
head  sank  a  little  forward.  He  made  no  sound;  he 
did  not  stir.  Major  Rathbone  sprang  up,  and  dis- 
cerning through  the  acrid  pistol  smoke  a  man  stand- 
ing between  Lincoln's  chair  and  the  door,  leapt  upon 
him,  but  received  a  violent  dagger  blow  in  the  breast 
that  nearly  proved  fatal. 

Freed  from  Rathbone,  and  satisfied  that  he  had 
killed  the  President,  Booth  ran  now  forward  and 
shouted  loudly,  "Sic  semper  tyrannis!"  Major  Rath- 
bone again  plunged  at  him  and  clutched  his  clothes, 
but  was  beaten  off  with  deadly  knife  thrusts  through 
the  left  arm  as  the  assassin,  putting  both  hands  on  the 
box  railing,  vaulted  to  the  stage  below.  In  doing  so 
his  spur  caught  on  the  flag  that  draped  the  box  and 
he  fell,  sprawling  on  all  fours  upon  the  stage  among 
the  actors  in  the  interrupted  scene.  Scrambling  up, 
with  uncertain  steps,  he  flourished  his  dagger  dramati- 
cally and  vanished  behind  the  wings. 


396     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

So  unexpected  was  the  pistol  shot;  so  sudden  his 
disappearance,  that  for  a  moment  the  bewildered  au- 
dience thought  it  was  all  part  of  the  play  and  stunned 
by  astonishment  sat  as  motionless  as  if  petrified.  Then 
a  long-drawn-out  scream  from  Mrs.  Lincoln  pierced 
the  air  and  the  theater  was  in  turmoil.  Rathbone, 
streaming  with  blood,  yelled  out  to  the  audience, 
"Stop  That  Man  !"  but  dazed  by  surprise,  no  one 
was  quick  enough  to  accomplish  this.  Shouting  "The 
President  is  shot!"  the  Major  then  rushed  to  the  door 
and  found  the  passage  barred.  The  theater  now  be- 
came a  scene  of  pandemonium.  A  rumor  started  that 
the  place  was  to  be  bombed  and  a  mad  fight  for  exits 
ensued. 

In  answer  to  Rathbone's  cry  for  a  physician  some 
men  below  the  President's  box  lifted  Dr.  Charles  Taft 
up  from  the  audience  and  over  flag  and  railing  where 
Booth  had  jumped  down.  The  doctor  found  the  Presi- 
dent still  seated  motionless,  his  eyes  closed,  head  bent. 
The  pistol  that  had  shot  him  lay  on  the  floor  behind 
his  chair,  lost  in  the  scuffle.  It  was  a  single-barreled 
percussion  Derringer,  shorter  than  the  fashionable  old- 
school  dueling  pistol,  and  its  large  bullet,  entering  the 
President's  skull  from  behind  lodged  back  of  the  left 
eye.  Examination  at  once  showed  the  wound  to  be 
fatal,  and  death  only  a  matter  now  of  minutes  or  hours 
at  best.  Major  Rathbone,  at  the  end  of  his  en- 
durance, fainted  from  fearful  loss  of  blood  and  was 
later  carried  home  in  a  critical  condition. 

As  soon  as  the  significance  of  the  shot  was  recog- 
nized, Laura  Keene,  the  stage  star,  had  run  from  the 
stage  to  the  box,  and  busied  herself  there  tenderly 


THE  ASSASSINATION  397 

assisting  the  frantic  Mrs.  Lincoln,  who,  half  sunk  by 
her  husband's  side,  kept  moaning  as  she  gesticulated 
madly.  Miss  Keene,  on  her  way  back  downstairs  on 
some  errand  was  encountered  convulsed  with  tears, 
the  costume  of  her  part  in  the  play  disarranged  and 
her  dress,  hands  and  even  her  face,  where,  aghast,  she 
had  pressed  her  trembling  fingers,  were  daubed  with 
the  President's  blood.  The  actress,  encountered  thus 
on  the  stairs  by  Senator  Munroe,  was  described  as 
"lately  the  central  figure  in  the  scene  of  comedy,  now 
the  incarnation  of  tragedy."  Mr.  Munroe  begged  her 
to  tell  whether  Mr.  Lincoln  was  still  alive. 

"God  only  knows!"  she  gasped,  and  hastened  on 
downstairs  where  troops  were  already  taking  posses- 
sion of  the  building  and  struggling  to  clear  the  street. 

Messengers  had  been  sent  to  summon  the  Surgeon- 
General,  Dr.  Stone,  the  family  physician,  the  Cabinet 
members,  and  preparations  were  made  to  remove  the 
wounded  President  to  the  White  House.  An  army 
ambulance  was  ordered  drawn  up  to  the  stage  door  for 
this  purpose.  Soon  the  Surgeon-General  in  uniform 
was  recognized  and  assisted  by  many  in  the  audience 
with  arms  and  shoulders  to  climb  up  into  the  box. 
Upon  arrival  of  the  physicians,  however,  further  exam- 
ination showed  it  inadvisable  to  attempt  the  removal, 
and  the  ambulance  order  was  canceled. 

Directly  across  the  street  from  the  theater  there 
shone  a  light  in  an  open  doorway  where  a  man  stood 
peering  out  into  the  commotion  on  Tenth  Street.  A 
messenger  ran  across  there  to  explain  that  the  Presi- 
dent was  shot  and  to  inquire  whether  accommodation 


398     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

could  be  furnished  him  so  near  at  hand.  The  house 
owner,  Mr.  Olroyd,  exclaiming,  "Surely!  Surely!" 
led  the  way  into  a  neat  bedroom  at  the  foot  of  the 
hall  on  the  first  floor  and  word  was  sent  to  bring  the 
dying  President  there. 

People  crowding  against  the  troopers  in  the  street 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  President's  limp  form  carried 
on  what  appeared  to  be  a  door  or  window  shutter  by 
several  shuffling  bearers.  The  President  was  quite  un- 
conscious, his  head  was  hanging  down  and  wobbling 
with  the  uncomfortable  motion  of  the  improvised 
stretcher,  while  blood  dripped  slowly  from  the  wound 
and  blotched  the  pavement.  He  was  placed  in  bed  with 
the  least  possible  disturbance  and  anxious  watchers 
grouped  about  it  or  paced  restlessly  outside  in  the  hall- 
way. 

In  the  meanwhile,  news  of  the  assassination,  coupled 
with  word  of  an  attack  on  Secretary  Seward,  had 
spread  all  over  the  city  and  the  wildest  excitement  and 
fears  were  maintained.  Streets  were  swiftly  filled  with 
hurrying  noisy  crowds,  windows  were  thrown  open, 
shouts  exchanged,  the  wildest  rumors  and  conjectures 
circulated. 

Around  Tenth  Street  uncontrolled  disorder  reigned 
and  men  running  to  the  Avenue  shouting,  "My  God, 
the  President's  shot!"  awoke  other  streets  to  scenes 
unequaled  since  war  panics.  Some  one  passed  the 
word  around  that  Wilkes  Booth  had  been  recognized; 
then  came  a  high  pitched  cry  from  another  direction, 
"Secretary  Seward's  stabbed  to  death!"  Within  and 
without  the  theater  was  an  unchecked  chaos.  Shouts 
of  "Lynch  him,  lynch  him!"  inflamed  the  populace  to 


THE  ASSASSINATION  399 

a  roaring  madness,  ropes  and  torches  were  produced 
and  the  mob  ran  aimlessly  about. 

When  the  news  reached  the  National  Theater  in 
the  middle  of  the  play  an  announcement  was  made 
from  the  stage,  and  the  performance  dismissed.  Little 
Tad,  sitting  in  the  audience,  thus  unmercifully  heard 
the  abrupt  news  of  his  father's  murder  and  gave  vent 
to  such  heartbreaking  screams  that  some  one  hastily 
took  the  hysterical  child  home  to  the  White  House. 

Robert  Lincoln,  in  the  meantime,  with  Major  Hay, 
entered  a  carriage  and  drove  as  rapidly  as  possible 
through  the  excited  crowd  to  Tenth  Street,  where  some 
one  informed  them  that  the  President,  his  whole  party, 
Mr.  Seward  and  all  the  cabinet  had  been  murdered. 
This  seemed  so  entirely  improbable  that  they  jumped 
out  of  the  carriage  and  ran  up  the  steps  of  the  Olroyd 
house  hoping  the  whole  thing  was  a  mistake  and  that 
the  President's  wound  was  only  superficial  after  all. 

Dr.  Stone,  however,  met  them  gravely  at  the  little 
bedroom  door  and  brokenly  told  them  there  was  no 
hope.  The  President,  shot  a  few  minutes  after  ten, 
had  received  a  wound  that  would  have  killed  most  men 
instantly  and  though  his  vitality  still  sustained  life  it 
was  impossible  for  him  to  survive. 

After  bending  sorrowfully  over  his  dying  father, 
Robert  devoted  himself  to  his  half -deranged  mother, 
whose  mainstay  he  became.  After  it  was  all  over  he 
took  her  from  the  deathbed  to  the  White  House. 

Robert  henceforth  assumed  the  family  responsi- 
bility and  became  his  bereaved  mother's  chief  comfort 
and  reliance  through  all  the  sad  long  years  of  her 
sorrow   and  ensuing   insanity.     Robert   it  was   who 


400     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

superintended  his  young  brother's  education,  and,  as 
would  indeed  have  pleased  his  father,  himself  became 
Secretary  of  War  from  the  years  1881  to  1885  and 
served  as  United  States  Minister  to  England  from 
1889  to  1893.    He  is  still  living  to-day  (1924). 

Thoughts  for  the  future,  however,  were  not  in 
Robert's  dazed  mind  during  the  grief  and  confusion 
of  that  fatal  night  when  he  entered  the  Tenth  Street 
house  to  find  his  father  dying. 

The  bed  upon  which  his  father  was  stretched  was 
under  a  flaring  gas  jet.  The  body  lay  as  immovable 
as  death,  though  at  intervals  there  was  still  audible  his 
irregular  breathing.  Around  the  bedside  stood  At- 
torney-General Speed,  Judge  Otto,  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Gurley,  the  President's  pastor,  and  Secretary  Stanton, 
the  latter  writing  telegrams  and  despatching  mes- 
sengers. The  night  wore  on.  As  dawn  came  a  change 
was  perceptible,  and  the  surgeon  indicated  that  death 
was  not  far  off. 

The  slow  and  irregular  respiration  broke  into  a 
throaty  rattle,  then  this  and  the  automatic  moaning 
ceased,  the  worn  features,  scarcely  more  haggard  than 
those  of  the  watchers,  relaxed  into  lines  of  ineffable 
peace.  At  twenty  minutes  after  seven  on  the  morn- 
ing of  April  15th,  1865,  the  great  heart  that  bore 
"malice  toward  none,  charity  for  all"  stopped  beating. 
Those  about  the  bedside  stirred  from  the  stupor  that 
had  bound  them,  and  then,  strangely  enough,  it  was 
Secretary  Stanton,  once  Lincoln's  bitterest  enemy,  now 
his  staunch  friend,  who  broke  the  silence.  He  gently 
closed  the  eyes  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  drew  the  sheet 
up  over  the  dead  face  and  said  in  low  broken  tones, 
"Now  he  belongs  to  the  ages." 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

THE   CAPTURE   OF   BOOTH 

Now  to  follow  the  progress  of  the  assassin. 

Escaping  by  the  stage  door,  Booth  snatched  his 
horse's  bridle  from  his  aide,  David  C.  Herrold,  and 
the  murderous  pair  bent  over  their  horses'  necks  in 
fleet  escape  toward  Maryland,  southeast  over  the  Navy 
Yard  Bridge. 

Booth's  leg,  fractured  in  his  fall,  was  so  painful  in 
riding  that  prolonged  flight  was  plainly  impossible  un- 
less some  remedy  was  secured.  The  pair  therefore  rode 
on  to  the  home  of  an  acquaintance,  Dr.  Samuel  Mudd, 
whom  they  routed  from  bed,  for  it  was  then  well  after 
midnight.  The  doctor  rose,  set  the  bone,  and  gave  the 
travelers  a  room  for  the  night.  By  this  act  the  surgeon 
became  an  "accessory  after  the  fact,"  for  which  he 
suffered. 

The  two  lingered  in  this  room  until  it  was  dark 
enough  the  following  evening  to  venture  forth,  when 
they  sought  succor  from  a  friend,  Samuel  Cox,  near 
Port  Tobacco.  He  put  them  under  the  protection  of 
Thomas  Jones,  a  Maryland  contraband  trader,  ex- 
tremist and  anarchist,  who  gave  them  food  and  shelter 
and  agreed  to  get  them  into  Virginia  undiscovered. 

By  this  time  the  War  Department's  Proclamation 
and  offer  of  reward  was  widespread  in  wayside 
posters  and  every  newspaper  in  these  terms : 

401 


402     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

"War  Dept,  April  20th,  1865. 

"The  murderer  of  our  late  beloved  President,  Abra- 
ham Lincoln,  is  still  at  large.  $50,000  reward  will  be 
paid  by  this  Department  for  his  apprehension  in  addi- 
tion to  any  reward  offered  by  municipal  authorities,  or 
State  Executives. 

"$25,000  reward  will  be  paid  for  the  apprehension 
of  G.  W.  Atzerodt,  sometimes  called  Tort  Tobacco/ 
one  of  Booth's  accomplices. 

"$25,000  reward  will  be  paid  for  the  apprehension 
of  David  C.  Herrold,  another  of  Booties  accomplices. 

"All  persons  harboring  or  secreting  said  persons  or 
either  of  them,  or  aiding  or  assisting  their  conceal- 
ment or  escape  will  be  treated  as  accomplices  in  the 
murder  of  the  President  and  the  attempted  assassina- 
tion of  the  Secretary  of  State  and  shall  be  subject  to 
trial  before  a  Military  Commissioner  and  the  punish- 
ment of  death. 

"Let  the  stain  of  innocent  blood  be  removed  from 
the  land  by  the  arrest  and  punishment  of  the  mur- 
derers. 

"All  good  citizens  are  exhorted  to  aid  public  justice 
on  this  occasion.  Every  man  should  consider  his  own 
conscience  charged  with  this  solemn  duty  and  rest 
neither  night  nor  day  until  it  be  accomplished. 

"Edwin  M.  Stanton, 
"Secretary  of  War." 

In  spite  of  the  high  price  placed  on  Booth's  head, 
Jones,  at  the  risk  of  his  own  life,  kept  the  two  fugi- 
tives hidden  in  the  woods  near  his  shack  under  the  very 
noses  of  the  Government  detectives  who  were  beating 


THE  CAPTURE  OF  BOOTH  403 

the  bushes  diligently  all  along  the  Potomac.  Jon~s 
successfully  hid  and  fed  the  runaways  undetected  for 
a  week,  keeping  on  the  alert  all  the  while  for  an  op- 
portunity to  smuggle  them  across  the  river.  Booth's 
leg  continued  to  be  so  painful  a  handicap  that  he  was 
unable  to  help  himself  much  in  journeying  on. 

At  last,  after  several  attempts,  Jones  ferried  the 
crippled  man  and  his  companion  across  the  Potomac 
by  night,  in  spite  of  the  vigilance  with  which  its  banks 
were  patrolled. 

Landed  at  last  on  Virginia  soil,  Booth  expected  to 
be  hailed  as  a  hero,  his  safety  assured,  his  vanity  in- 
flated and  his  morbid  greed  for  notoriety  sated.  The 
very  dregs  of  bitterness  were  his  when  the  Southern 
newspapers  met  his  eye  with  their  condemnation  of 
his  act. 

Repudiated  by  the  Southerners,  Booth  found  him- 
self not  lauded,  not  canonized,  but  forced  to  live  half- 
fed,  half-sick,  in  hiding  like  a  wounded  and  hunted 
animal.  In  wretched  outlawry  and  pain  he  poured  his 
chagrin  into  his  diary  from  which  these  excerpts  reveal 
his  warped  egotism : 

"After  being  hunted  like  a  dog  through  swamps, 
etc.,  I  am  here  in  despair,  and  why?  For  doing  what 
Brutus  was  honored  for, — what  made  Tell  a  hero." 

"I  am  abandoned  with  the  curse  of  Cain  upon  me, 
when,  if  the  world  knew  my  heart,  that  one  blow  would 
have  made  me  great." 

With  his  leg  in  splints,  Booth  could  travel  very 
slowly  and  on  the  night  of  April  25th  had  only  got 
so  far  as  the  Garret  farm  near  Port  Royal  in  Caroline 
County,  Va.,  on  the  Rappahannock.      Here  he  was 


404     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

hiding  in  a  barn  on  the  road  to  Bowling  Green  when 
a  squad  of  cavalrymen  came  clattering  up,  surrounded 
the  barn,  dismounted  and  called  out  to  him  to  sur- 
render. The  craven  Herrold,  disguised  in  a  Confed- 
erate uniform,  at  once  crawled  out  and  was  soundly 
cursed  by  the  wounded  Booth  who  was  made  of  sterner 
stuff.  Booth  proudly  refused  to  surrender  and  de- 
clared he  would  never  be  taken  alive.  There  was  little 
left  him  but  suicide. 

At  his  refusal  to  come  out  the  soldiers  threatened 
to  set  fire  to  the  barn.  Even  then  he  stood  his  ground. 
The  men  rushed  forward  and  fired  the  wooden  barn 
in  an  attempt  to  smoke  him  out  for  they  were  under 
these  orders:  "Don't  shoot  Booth.     Take  him  alive!" 

In  the  first  flare  of  the  lighted  fire,  Booth's  figure 
could  be  plainly  seen  inside  through  cracks  in  the  barn 
leaning  on  a  crutch  and  holding  a  rifle  in  his  hands. 
As  the  fire  crackled  louder  he  crawled  on  hands  and 
knees  to  a  crack  to  shoot,  but  the  mounting  blaze 
blinded  his  aim.  The  light  of  the  burning  barn  now 
revealed  him,  unkempt,  uniformed  like  Herrold,  with 
his  hair  cropped  close  and  his  mustache  shaved  off  re- 
vealing a  haggard  face,  thin  and  fever  worn.  Caught 
like  a  rat  he  hobbled  to  the  barn  door  and  in  spite  of  a 
shout  of  "Don't  kill  him!"  an  excited  and  over-zealous 
sergeant,  Boston  Corbett,  let  fire  and  shot  him  in  the 
neck  in  almost  the  identical  spot  where  Booth's  own 
bullet  had  struck  Lincoln.  Like  Lincoln  he  fell  silently 
forward.  The  cavalrymen  dragged  him  out  and  laid 
him  in  the  grass,  where,  after  four  hours  of  agony  he 
died  at  seven  in  the  morning,  at  almost  the  same  time 
of  day  that  marked  his  victim's  passing.     His  last 


THE  CAPTURE  OF  BOOTH  405 

words,  whispered  to  Lieutenant  Baker  were,  "Tell 
mother  I  died  for  my  country.  I  thought  I  did  for 
the  best." 

The  body  was  disposed  of  after  it  had  been  taken 
to  Washington  and  given  a  military  post-mortem  on 
board  the  Monitor  Montauk.  Then,  at  night  on  April 
27th,  it  was  turned  over  to  two  men  who  took  it  in  a 
rowboat  and  put  it  away  secretly.  Nobody  knows 
what  they  did  with  it  except  themselves  and  they  have 
never  told. 

So  perished  a  man  who  craved  fame  insanely  and 
whose  only  claim  to  it  lay  in  one  evil  deed  which 
wrought  untold  harm. 

In  the  light  of  the  present  day  judicial  practice  of 
analyzing  motives  for  crime,  perhaps  a  brief  glance  at 
Wilkes  Booth's  background  will  prove  interesting. 

He  was  the  son  of  Junius  Brutus  Booth,  a  well- 
known  English  actor  of  more  than  ordinary  ability, 
and  more  than  ordinary  eccentricities.  Junius  Brutus 
Booth  was  the  son  of  Richard  Booth,  an  erratic  man 
who  early  in  life  made  himself  highly  unpopular  for 
his  extreme  Republican  sympathies.  At  the  impulsive 
age  of  twenty,  Richard  Booth  ran  away  from  home 
with  a  cousin  to  join  American  troops  to  fight  against 
his  own  land  in  the  Revolution.  He  was  made  a  pris- 
oner and  returned  to  England  before  he  crossed  the 
sea  on  this  impetuous  mission.  It  remained  one  of  his 
eccentricities  to  demand  extreme  reverence  from  all 
visitors  to  the  portrait  of  Washington  which  he  kept 
as  a  sort  of  icon  in  his  home.  His  mental  irregulari- 
ties were  quite  marked  from  the  time  he  was  young. 
His  special  mania  continued  to  be  extreme  admiration 


406     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

for  Republicanism,  especially  as  he  saw  it  personified 
in  the  United  States.  He  refused  to  let  one  of  his 
sons,  a  sailor  in  the  British  Navy,  serve  against  Amer- 
ica in  the  War  of  1812.  His  son,  Junius,  like  himself, 
showed  lack  of  mental  balance  from  the  time  he  was  a 
boy  and  these  disturbances  were  intensified  as  he  grew 
older  by  intemperance.  Junius  married  in  England 
but  came  to  America  to  live,  settling  in  Maryland,  and 
continuing  a  successful  dramatic  career.  In  acting, 
especially  in  stage  duels,  he  was  often  so  carried  away 
by  the  part  that  he  lost  his  own  identity  in  the  char- 
acter he  portrayed  to  such  an  extent  that  other  actors 
in  the  caste  had  to  beware  of  the  earnestness  of  his 
stage  sword  play.  His  father,  an  extreme  sympa- 
thizer with  the  colonies,  joined  him  in  Maryland  and 
the  two  were  marked  by  unbalanced  and  exaggerated 
patriotism.  Thus  insanity  characterized  both  the 
grandfather  and  father  of  John  Wilkes  Booth,  the 
assassin. 

This  partial  insanity,  long  evident  in  Junius,  devel- 
oped into  ever-increasing  violence  and  frequent  periods 
of  aberration  in  which  he  often  sought  to  kill  him- 
self. He  died  of  pneumonia,  his  heart  weakened  by 
drink,  before  his  suicidal  attempts  were  effective. 

So  much  for  the  father  of  John  Wilkes  Booth. 
John  Wilkes  himself  was  also  an  actor,  but  of  very 
mediocre  talent.  He  was  brother  to  Edwin  Booth  of 
dramatic  fame  and  honor  who  was,  however,  not 
wholly  devoid  of  eccentricities  either. 

John  Wilkes  Booth  was  a  failure  in  the  profession 
in  which  his  father  and  brother  both  shone.  He 
seemed  ever  depressed  by  a  morbid  sense  of  inferiority 


THE  CAPTURE  OF  BOOTH  407 

which  goaded  him  on  to  seek  glory  through  question- 
able means.  His  attitude  is  well  expressed  in  his  own 
utterance,  "The  fame  of  the  youth  who  fired  the 
Ephesian  dome  will  outlive  that  of  the  pious  fools  who 
reared  it."  He  was  a  destroyer  by  very  nature  and  he 
had  early  shown  tendencies  like  his  father's  unfortu- 
nate intemperances  and  mental  disturbances.  These 
were  in  no  way  curbed  in  youth  and  intensified  as  he 
grew  up.  What  his  mother  was  like  or  how  she  in- 
fluenced him  we  do  not  know. 

Booth  was  only  twenty-seven  years  old  when  he  shot 
Lincoln.  He  was  a  strikingly  handsome,  cultured 
young  man,  of  almost  romantic  appearance,  dark, 
graceful,  charming.  He  made  himself  the  center  of  a 
group  of  weak-minded  admirers  over  whom  he  de- 
lighted to  exert  his  power  of  dominating.  His  was 
the  moving  spirit  of  the  conspiracy,  they  his  pawns. 
He  assigned  the  parts  each  was  to  play,  reserving  for 
himself  the  star  role  of  assassinating  the  President,  for 
which  act  he  supposed  he  would  bask  in  everlasting 
fame. 

Booth  was  only  an  individual  fanatic,  not  an  emis- 
sary of  the  Confederacy  as  was  sometimes  mistakenly 
supposed.  In  Booth  inherited  tendencies  toward  un- 
balanced and  exaggerated  patriotic  excitement  carried 
him  to  extremes;  the  father's  lifelong  aberrations 
marked  the  son's  mental  uncertainties,  constant  use  of 
liquor  inflamed  him  to  the  danger  point. 

Concerning  John  Wilkes  Booth  the  kindest  judg- 
ment that  can  be  passed  lies  in  the  words  Lincoln  him- 
self used  of  John  Brown,  "An  enthusiast  broods  over 
the  oppression  of  a  people  till  he  fancies  himself  com- 


408     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

missioned  by  Heaven  to  liberate  them.  He  ventures 
the  attempt  which  ends  in  little  else  than  his  own 
execution." 

This  young  man's  attempt  ended  in  something  more 
than  his  own  death, — incalculable  loss  not  only  to  the 
Union  but  to  the  disrupted  South. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

EXTENT    OF  THE   PLOT 

The  assassination  of  the  President  was  not  merely 
the  single  act  of  one  fanatic.  It  was  but  part  of  a 
well-organized  plot  to  wipe  out  the  whole  executive 
body  of  the  Government. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  General  Grant  and  his 
wife  were  to  have  attended  the  theater  with  the  Presi- 
dent's party  on  the  fatal  night.  Evidently  it  had  been 
planned  that  Grant,  too,  should  die  then,  and  only  the 
merest  turn  of  chance  saved  him.  At  the  last  minute 
Mrs.  Grant  decided  for  some  trivial  reason  that  she 
wanted  to  leave  Washington  on  the  very  evening  of 
the  theater  party,  to  go  north  to  meet  her  daughter  in 
Burlington.  The  General  therefore  made  excuses  to 
the  President  and  that  evening,  at  the  very  hour  when 
he  would  otherwise  have  been  sitting  in  the  President's 
box,  he  was  leaving  the  city  unexpectedly.  As  the 
General  and  Mrs.  Grant  were  driving  along  Pennsyl- 
vania Avenue  to  the  station,  a  man  on  horseback  went 
galloping  suddenly  past  them.  He  whirled  his  horse 
around  abruptly  and  trotted  back  deliberately  peering 
into  the  General's  carriage  as  if  to  make  sure  who  was 
seated  in  it.  Mrs.  Grant  was  much  upset  and  said  in 
a  worried  tone  to  her  husband,  "Why,  that  is  the  very 
man  who  sat  near  us  at  lunch  to-day  with  some  others, 
and  tried  to  overhear  our  conversation!     He  was  so 

409 


410     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

rude  you  remember  as  to  cause  us  to  leave  the  dining 
room  and  here  he  is  again  riding  after  us !" 

Grant  reassured  her  calmly  by  saying  it  was  prob- 
ably only  another  curiosity  seeker,  but  Mrs.  Grant  was 
not  altogether  quieted.  The  curious  horseman  was 
later  recognized  as  John  Wilkes  Booth  himself.  He 
had  planned  to  include  Grant  with  Lincoln  in  his  plot, 
overheard  the  Grants'  change  of  plans  at  luncheon 
and  galloped  furiously  after  the  carriage  to  make  sure 
that  his  quarry  was  escaping. 

Grant  had  received  an  anonymous  letter  a  few  days 
before  this  saying  that  the  writer  had  been  appointed 
to  kill  him  and  had  one  day  followed  him  for  this  pur- 
pose, boarded  the  train  with  him  and  followed  as  far 
as  Havre  de  Grace  but  had  failed  in  his  mission  be- 
cause he  could  not  get  into  the  General's  car  which  was 
locked.  He  now  warned  Grant  and  thanked  God  he 
had  not  succeeded  in  killing  him.  Grant  recalled  the 
conductor's  locking  his  car,  but  had  thought  little  of 
the  letter  at  the  time,  crediting  it  to  some  of  the  un- 
balanced cranks  who  write  anonymously  to  public  per- 
sons. In  the  light  of  what  happened  afterwards,  how- 
ever, it  seemed  significant. 

The  news  of  Lincoln's  assassination  was  brought 
Grant  just  as  he  reached  Philadelphia.  On  hearing  the 
fearful  news  he  cried  out : 

"This  is  the  darkest  day  of  my  life !  I  do  not  know 
what  it  means!  Here  was  the  Rebellion  put  down  in 
the  field  and  it  is  reasserting  itself  in  the  gutter.  We 
fought  it  as  a  war,  we  have  now  to  fight  it  as  murder." 

He  immediately  got  off  the  northbound  train  and 
returned  straightway  to  Washington  on  a  special. 


EXTENT  OF  THE  PLOT  411 

Nor  was  Grant's  the  only  other  life  threatened. 
Secretary  Seward  fared  worse  than  he.  A  feeble- 
minded Florida  boy,  calling  himself  Lewis  Payne, 
afterwards  identified  by  his  real  name  as  Lewis  Thorn- 
ton Powell,  was  delegated  to  slay  Seward.  This  strong 
and  brutal  youth  boarded  two  weeks  at  the  Herndon 
House  on  the  corner  of  Ninth  and  F  Streets,  and  left 
there  on  April  14th  at  about  4  o'clock,  when  he  paid 
his  bill  and  asked  for  his  dinner  ahead  of  time.  Just 
what  he  did  with  himself  between  then  and  10  p.m! 
is  not  known,  but  at  this  late  hour  he  rang  the  front 
door  bell  of  the  Seward  Mansion  near  Lafayette 
Square,  where  he  had  learned  that  Mr.  Seward  was 
sick  in  bed.  No  doubt  he  hoped  that  attendants  and 
family  would  be  retiring  and  out  of  his  way.  More- 
over, this  was  the  hour  at  which  Booth  slew  Lincoln 
and  some  pact  to  assassinate  at  the  same  time  may 
have  bound  him.  For  whatever  reason,  at  ten  o'clock 
at  night  he  made  his  attempt.  The  door  was  answered 
by  a  colored  butler  and  Payne  quickly  pushed  himself 
inside,  showing  a  little  package  which  he  said  the 
doctor  had  told  him  to  hand  to  Secretary  Seward  him- 
self and  explain  directions  for  taking  it.  The  colored 
man  said  he  could  not  see  Mr.  Seward  who  was  ill  in 
bed  and  asleep.  Payne  insisted  disagreeably,  and  the 
doorman  replied  that  he  had  orders  not  to  let  any  one 
into  the  sick  room.  Payne,  however,  was  so  domi- 
neering that  the  butler  began  to  feel  he  might  after  all 
be  mistaken  in  refusing  the  physician's  supposed  mes- 
senger, but  before  he  could  call  a  member  of  the  fam- 
ily to  interview  the  persistent  stranger,  Payne  had 
hastened  boldly  up  the  front  stairway.     At  the  head 


412     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

of  the  stairs  he  encountered  Frederick  Seward  the 
Secretary's  son  who  had  formerly  been  sent  to  Harris- 
burg  to  warn  Lincoln  of  an  assassination  plot  as  far 
back  as  the  President's  initial  trip  to  Washington  for 
his  first  inauguration. 

Roused  by  the  loud  talking  at  the  door  and  in  the 
hall,  Frederick  Seward  came  to  see  what  it  was  all 
about  and  met  the  visitor  face  to  face.  Hearing  the 
explanation  of  the  stranger's  undesired  presence,  young 
Seward  said,  "You  cannot  see  my  father,  he  is  sound 
asleep  now.  Leave  the  medicine  with  me,  and  I  will 
see  that  he  gets  it." 

"I  have  orders  to  see  him  myself  and  give  the 
doctor's  instructions  regarding  it  to  him  in  person." 

Payne  persisted  so  unpleasantly  that  young  Seward's 
temper  was  roused  and  he  retorted,  "I  am  proprietor 
here  and  Mr.  Seward's  son.  If  you  can't  leave  it  with 
me,  you  can't  leave  it  at  all."  At  this  Payne,  pretend- 
ing to  turn  and  go  downstairs,  suddenly  whirled  about 
and  with  a  vicious  and  treacherous  blow  that  caught 
Frederick  Seward  unawares,  knocked  him  down  and 
sprang  to  the  sick  room  door.  Frederick  was  found 
unconscious  and  remained  in  a  coma  for  several  weeks, 
so  that  he  was  perhaps  the  very  last  man  in  the  country 
to  learn  the  outcome  of  that  fearful  night.  This  com- 
motion disturbed  a  Sergeant  who  was  on  duty  as  bed- 
side attendant.  He  opened  the  door  just  as  Payne 
reached  it.  In  a  flash  Payne  had  slashed  his  face  with 
a  knife  and  thrust  past  him  to  the  bed  where  he  stabbed 
the  Secretary  three  times  violently.  Seward's  daugh- 
ter, also  in  attendance  on  her  father,  shrieked  and  her 
screams  brought  her  other  brother,  Augustus,  running 


EXTENT  OF  THE  PLOT  413 

down  the  hall.  He  flung  himself  upon  Payne,  and  the 
two  grappled  and  fell.  The  bleeding  Sergeant  rushed 
to  the  rescue  and  they  succeeded  in  throwing  Payne 
out  of  the  bedroom  door.  With  deft  and  savage  blows 
of  his  knife  the  assassin  severely  injured  his  opponents, 
broke  loose  from  both  men,  dashed  downstairs  and 
fled  headlong  into  the  street.  The  butler  was  outside 
calling  "Police !"  and  at  sight  of  the  fleeing  assassin, 
he  promptly  gave  chase.  Payne  leaped  to  a  waiting 
saddle  horse  and  galloped  madly  away  pursued  by  the 
breathless  colored  man  who  lost  sight  of  the  rider 
on  quiet  I  Street.  Payne  had  lost  his  hat  in  the 
struggle,  however,  and  this  later  led  to  his  identifica- 
tion and  capture.  Fearing  that  he  would  attract  at- 
tention bareheaded,  Payne  hid  in  the  woods  east  of 
Washington  for  two  days  until  hunger  drove  him  out. 
He  sneaked  to  the  small  boarding  house  kept  by  a 
widow,  Mrs.  Mary  Surratt,  which  the  conspirators  had 
used  as  a  rendezvous  and  where  they  had  hatched  their 
plot.  It  happened  that  Payne  walked  straight  into  the 
house  at  the  very  moment  when  it  had  been  raided  and 
all  the  inmates  taken  prisoners.  He  therefore  stepped 
directly  into  the  trap  and  was  quickly  caught.  The 
youth  was  not  bright,  and  a  few  stupid  but  truthful 
words,  surprised  from  him,  betrayed  his  own  and  Mrs. 
Surratt's  guilt  at  once. 

There  was  some  wonder  that  Payne  had  not  shot 
the  Secretary  and  his  attendants,  but  the  loaded  re- 
volver which  he  carried  was  afterward  discovered  to 
have  had  its  hammer  so  jammed  in  the  scuffle  with 
Frederick  that  it  refused  to  fire.  Trusting,  therefore, 
to  the  violence  of  his  knife  thrusts,  the  assassin  had 


414     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

fled,  believing  he  had  killed  the  Secretary  of  State. 
But,  like  Grant,  how  small  an  episode  had  saved  his 
life! 

Seward  had  gone  riding  the  day  before  and  suffered 
a  severe  fall  that  broke  his  jawbone.  The  surgeon 
who  set  it  chanced  to  use  a  steel  frame  to  protect 
the  broken  bones  and  this  was  adjusted  over  face  and 
neck.  This  frame  saved  Seward's  life.  The  blows 
of  the  knife  cut  his  cheek  and  neck  to  be  sure,  but  they 
glanced  from  the  steel  frame  before  striking  a  vital 
spot. 

Thus  Grant  and  Seward,  by  the  merest  chance, 
escaped.  Chance  allowed  a  wider  margin  to  other 
executives  and  cabinet  members  who,  it  is  supposed, 
had  also  been  doomed  to  die  but  never  faced  assassin 
or  bullet. 

The  Vice-president,  Andrew  Johnson,  had  been  as- 
signed for  murder  to  a  coachmaker  who  had  turned 
spy  and  blockade  runner.  This  accomplice  whose 
full  name,  queerly  enough,  was  George  Washington 
Atzerodt,  was  a  crony  of  Samuel  Cox  and  Thomas 
Jones  at  Port  Tobacco.  He  balked  at  his  commission 
and  refused  to  commit  murder,  so  the  Vice-president 
was  spared. 

The  whole  plot  included  about  twenty-five  con- 
spirators, one  of  them  a  woman.  This  was  Mrs.  Sur- 
ratt,  of  Maryland,  who  had  formerly  possessed  a  good 
deal  of  property,  and  although  then  reduced  to  running 
a  cheap  boarding-house  in  Washington  she  still  owned 
a  tavern  kept  by  a  man  named  Lloyd  at  Surratsville 
in  Maryland.  The  plot  had  originally  been,  crazily 
enough,  to  kidnap  the  executives  and  take  them  captive 


EXTENT  OF  THE  PLOT  415 

to  Richmond  during  the  war  and  for  this  purpose  the 
tavern  had  been  used  to  store  supplies  and  firearms. 
Maddened  by  the  surrender,  Booth  had  changed  his 
plan  from  abduction  to  immediate  assassination. 

On  April  nth  Mrs.  Surratt  had  gone  to  Lloyd  and 
instructed  him  to  have  guns  ready  for  use  on  the  14th. 
It  was  only  at  noon  on  the  14th  that  Booth  had  over- 
heard the  theater  party  plans  at  the  Grants'  restaurant 
table,  and  had  impulsively  chosen  the  theater  for 
the  murder.  Booth  escaped  from  the  theater  and  fled 
directly  to  Lloyd's  tavern  on  the  Maryland  border 
which  he  and  Herrold  reached  by  midnight.  They 
stopped  there  before  going  on  to  Dr.  Mudd's  to 
have  Booth's  leg  set.  The  tavern  also  housed  two 
Maryland  malcontents,  Samuel  Arnold  and  Michael 
O'Laughlin,  who  held  themselves  ready  to  aid  in 
abductions. 

Of  all  the  conspirators  who  were  finally  captured 
and  brought  to  trial,  these  were  convicted  of  murder: 
David  C.  Herrold,  who  was  caught  in  the  burning 
barn  with  Booth;  Lewis  Payne,  who  stabbed  Seward; 
G.  W.  Atzerodt,  the  spy  and  smuggler  who  had  taken 
oath  to  slay  the  Vice-president,  and  Mrs.  Surratt 
herself.    These  four  were  hanged. 

Edward  Spangler,  the  theater  scene  shifter  who 
aided  Booth,  was  sent  to  jail  for  six  years.  The  thugs, 
Arnold  and  O'Laughlin,  and  Dr.  Samuel  Mudd,  who 
set  Booth's  leg,  were  all  sent  on  life  sentence  to  the 
Dry  Tortugas  of  dreadful  name.  Curiously  enough, 
during  their  term  yellow  fever  broke  out  there  and 
Dr.  Mudd  so  distinguished  himself  by  heroic  service 
throughout  the  devastating  epidemic  that  he  was  par- 


416     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

doned  and  eventually  returned  to  his  Maryland  home. 
Another  conspirator,  John  Surratt,  son  of  the  woman 
who  died  on  the  gallows,  managed  to  escape  by  way 
of  Canada  to  England,  to  Egypt  and  finally  to  Italy 
where,  unknown,  he  actually  achieved  appointment  to 
the  Papal  Guards  in  the  sheltered  Vatican.  Surely  he 
might  there  deem  himself  well  lost  to  the  world! 
But  Archbishop  Hughes  chanced  to  identify  him  and 
made  known  his  perfidy.  Although  no  extradition 
laws  technically  covered  his  case,  the  Italian  Govern- 
ment nevertheless  promptly  turned  Surratt  over  to  the 
United  States  authorities  and  he  was  brought  to  trial. 
Years  had  elapsed  by  that  time  since  his  mother  had 
been  condemned  to  execution,  and  he  finally  escaped 
conviction  on  the  grounds  of  the  statute  of  limitation. 
So  ended  the  shameful  fellowship  that  wrought  a 
national  tragedy  at  the  very  time  when  there  was  most 
need  of  Lincoln  leadership  and  spirit  in  work  greater 
than  the  war  itself — the  Reconstruction. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

BACK   TO   SPRINGFIELD 

The  wild  rejoicing  that  greeted  the  war's  end  was 
suddenly  hushed  by  the  shock  of  the  assassination.  In 
the  dreadful  mourning  that  ensued,  all  exultation  and 
demonstrations  of  triumph  in  the  victory  over  the 
South  were  forgotten.  The  Nation's  attention  turned 
from  peace  celebrations  to  the  blackest  grief  and  horror 
in  which  any  gloating  over  the  Confederacy's  down- 
fall was  lost  sight  of. 

The  city  of  Washington  was  draped  in  black  an  hour 
after  the  President's  body  was  borne  from  the  little 
house  on  Tenth  Street  to  the  White  House.  Busi- 
ness was  suspended,  Government  departments  closed. 
Every  shop  window  exhibited  a  Lincoln  portrait  draped 
in  the  flag  and  crepe  and  streamers  of  crepe  shrouded 
every  building.  Every  residence  showed  a  black 
draped  flag;  the  colors  drooped  at  half  mast  in  each 
park.  Even  in  the  poorer  sections  of  the  city  work- 
men's houses  and  negro  shanties  showed  pitiful  at- 
tempts at  mourning  with  strips  of  black  calico,  im- 
provised colors  pinned  to  newspaper  pictures  of  Lin- 
coln that  were  cut  out  and  pasted  to  window  panes 
adorned  with  mourning  borders.  An  unnatural  hush 
pervaded  the  city.  Traffic  was  slow  and  quiet.  People 
passed  one  another  with  drawn  faces  and  reddened  eye- 
lids. They  stood  without  talking  on  doorsteps  and 
curbs  not  knowing  what  to  do  with  themselves,  unable 

417 


418     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

to  settle  down,  uneasily  wondering  what  would  happen 
next. 

Meanwhile,  released  from  strife  and  anxiety,  the 
Great  Executive  lay  motionless  in  the  high  catafalque 
in  the  White  House  East  Room,  with  guard  on  duty 
there.  Nowhere  has  that  scene  been  better  pictured 
than  in  Lincoln's  own  fateful  dream. 

The  funeral  was  arranged  for  Wednesday,  April 
19th,  and  all  the  churches  in  all  the  country  were  to 
unite  in  service  at  the  same  hour.  The  East  Room 
ceremonies  were  simple  enough — the  Episcopal  burial 
service  followed  by  a  brief  address  and  concluding 
prayer.  Then  followed  the  memorable  funeral  pro- 
cession, slow  and  magnificent,  from  White  House  to 
Capitol,  where  the  body  was  to  lie  in  state  under  the 
Rotunda.  An  Army  and  Navy  cortege  escorted  the 
body;  Cabinet  members  and  dignitaries  followed  in 
carriages;  school  children  lined  the  way.  All  Wash- 
ington turned  out  upon  Pennsylvania  Avenue  and 
thronged  the  curbs  to  gaze  upon  the  long  and  silent 
procession.  An  uncanny  stillness  hung  over  the  silent 
mob  of  people  standing  shoulder  to  shoulder  several 
deep  all  along  the  way.  No  sound  rose  from  them  as 
the  shuffle  of  many  feet  tramped  by  upon  that  avenue 
along  which  Lincoln  had  twice  traveled  to  inaugura- 
tion. This  utter  silence  of  the  multitude  added  a 
deeper  sadness  and  strangeness  to  the  scene.  The  still- 
ness was  only  broken  by  the  melancholy  booming  of 
minute  guns  and  the  sinister  tolling  of  all  the  church 
bells  near  and  far,  loud  and  faint,  high  and  deep,  in 
Washington  and  Georgetown  and  in  Alexandria.  The 
human  silence,  the  metallic  boom  and  ringing  gave  un- 


BACK  TO  SPRINGFIELD  419 

realness  to  the  unforgettable  day.  Countless  people 
stood  hours  in  line  at  the  Capitol  to  pass  the  coffin  and 
gaze  for  a  last  time  upon  the  face  of  Abraham  Lincoln. 

This  was  the  first  and  most  awful  of  the  Presi- 
dential funerals  in  which  the  murdered  bodies  of  Gar- 
field and  McKinley  were  likewise  destined  to  be  borne 
along  the  Avenue  to  lie  in  state  before  the  multitudes 
thronging  the  Capitol.  Harrison,  Taylor  and  Harding 
have  died  in  office.  Lincoln  was  first  of  the  three 
assassinated. 

It  was  announced  that  Lincoln's  burial  was  to  be 
made  in  Springfield,  Illinois.  At  once  every  town 
along  the  line  from  Washington  to  Springfield  tele- 
graphed the  Government  petitioning  that  the  funeral 
train  might  halt  there  for  the  citizens  to  do  reverence. 
The  little  coffin  of  Willie  Lincoln  was  prepared  for  the 
trip  back  to  Springfield  with  his  father,  a  double  grief 
for  Mrs.  Lincoln. 

Arrangement  was  made  for  the  sad  journey  back  to 
Springfield  to  cover  the  circuitous  route  taken  by  Lin- 
coln four  years  before  when  he  came  on  to  Washing- 
ton for  inauguration. 

The  funeral  train  draped  in  somber  black  and  ac- 
companied by  a  guard  of  honor  started  on  its  way  on 
April  21.  In  every  city  to  which  it  came  there  were 
fitting  ceremonies,  and  even  in  villages  where  the  train 
could  not  stop,  crowds  stood  for  hours  mournfully  at 
the  stations  waiting  to  pay  their  last  tribute  of  respect 
to  the  great  President.  In  Baltimore  the  casket  was 
carried  to  the  Exchange  where  it  was  on  public  view 
for  some  hours,  banked  with  evergreens  and  lilies. 
In  New  York  the  body  lay  in  state  in  the  City  Hall 


420     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

while  half  a  million  people  passed  silently  by  it.  Dirges 
and  hymns  were  sung  through  the  countryside  as  the 
train  passed  slowly  along. 

All  along  the  westward  route  citizens  had  ex- 
pressed a  Nation's  grief.  Here  once  more  back  in 
Springfield  the  neighbors  were  mourning  not  the  Presi- 
dent so  much  as  "Abe/'  who  had  come  home  at  last. 
Here,  at  his  own  request  there  still  swung  on  its  rusty 
hinges  the  old  signboard,  "Lincoln  and  Herndon,  At- 
torneys," of  which  the  senior  partner  had  said,  "Let 
it  hang  there  undisturbed.  If  I  live,  I'm  coming  back 
and  we'll  go  on  practicing  law  as  if  nothing  had  ever 
happened/' 

Here  Mrs.  Lincoln  and  her  boys,  exhausted  from 
the  slow  interrupted  and  terrible  trip  were  too  heart- 
broken to  return  to  "the  little  house  on  Eighth  Street." 
Without  the  husband  she  was  so  proud  of,  the  desolate 
"little  woman"  now  gave  way  to  such  wild  grief  at 
thought  of  that  house  which,  as  a  bride,  she  had  seen 
with  one  humble  story  only,  that  her  sister,  Mrs.  Ninian 
Edwards,  had  to  close  up  the  Lincoln  home  and  take 
them  to  live  with  her. 

There  was  the  sharpness  of  personal  mourning  in 
the  Springfield  reception  which  the  guard  of  honor 
had  not  seen  in  other  towns.  Old  friends  of  Lincoln's, 
people  who  had  known  him  in  his  gawky  boyhood, 
flocked  from  all  over  the  countryside  for  one  last  look 
at  "honest  Abe."  Dennis  Hanks  was  there,  with  his 
treasured  watch,  the  Dennis  who  had  played  with 
him  when  he  was  a  baby  "as  solemn  as  a  papoose,"  the 
Dennis  who  had  shared  the  family  sorrow  of  the  "milk 


BACK  TO  SPRINGFIELD  421 

sickness"  days,  the  Dennis  who  had  made  the  author 
of  the  Emancipation  Proclamation  his  first  pen  of  a 
turkey  buzzard  feather.  Perhaps  old  Sally  Bush  Lin- 
coln was  there  herself  with  shiftless  son  John.  John 
Hanks  of  rail  fame  must  surely  have  been  present. 
The  Rutledges  were  on  the  funeral  committee  of  ar- 
rangements. The  Todd  relatives,  who  had  been  op- 
posed to  ''Mary's  marrying  beneath  her,"  were  now 
active  in  arranging  a  memorial.  Old  time  Gentryville 
friends  made  the  pilgrimage  to  Springfield.  Country 
lawyers,  former  partners,  circuit  judges  made  especial 
effort  to  come  to  the  funeral  from  whatever  part  of 
the  state  they  were  in.  Perhaps  Hannah  Armstrong 
and  her  son,  Duff,  were  among  the  throng  in  town, 
that  day.  The  butcher  from  whom  Lincoln  used  to 
buy  "ten-cent  beefsteaks  and  carry  them  home  him- 
self" shut  up  shop,  cast  off  his  apron  for  somber  black 
Sunday  suit.  Boys  Lincoln  had  amused  at  marbles, 
the  telegraph  operator  who  received  first  news  of  the 
nomination,  survivors  of  the  old  "Long  Nine,"  Joshua 
Speed,  Billy  Green  and  sturdy  Sangamon  farmers, 
these  were  some  of  the  mourners  Lincoln  would  have 
cared  most  about.  Lincoln  was  buried  among  his  own 
people  in  a  wooded  spot  in  beautiful  Oakland  Ceme- 
tery. The  memorial  in  Springfield  stands  there  to- 
day, while  another  in  Washington  rises  near  the 
Potomac,  that  borderline  between  the  North  and  South 
he  strove  to  keep  united.  The  Lincoln  memorial  on 
the  Potomac,  plain,  white  and  beautiful,  stands  im- 
pressively in  sight  of  Robert  E.  Lee's  Arlington  Man- 
sion.   Its  heroic  statue  of  Lincoln  so  humanly  natural 


422     THE  DRAMATIC  LIFE  OF  LINCOLN 

with  rumpled  hair  and  loose  baggy  clothes  gazes  pen- 
sively out  upon  the  Washington  Monument  and  Capitol 
dome. 

These  formal  monuments  mark  the  passing  of  a 
great  soul,  but  it  is  perhaps  the  memory  of  his  bare- 
foot log  cabin  days  kept  ever  fresh  in  the  minds  of 
little  school  children  which  will  always  prove  his  most 
living  and  potent  influence  in  the  citizenry  of  to-day. 

So  ended  the  career  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  "the 
gentlest  and  most  Christlike  mortal  that  ever  wielded 
power  in  all  the  tide  of  time." 

O,  slow  to  smite,  and  swift  to  spare, 

Gentle  and  merciful  and  just! 
Who  in  the  fear  of  God  did  bear 

The  Sword  of  power,  a  Nation's  trust 

In  sorrow  by  thy  bier  we  stand, 

Amid  the  awe  that  husheth  all, 
And  speak  the  language  of  a  land 

That  shook  with  horror  at  thy  fall. 

Thy  task  is  done ;  the  bonds  are  free, 
We  bear  thee  to  an  honored  grave, 

Whose  proudest  monument  shall  be 
The  broken  fetters  of  the  slave. 

Pure  was  thy  life ;  its  bloody  close 
Has  placed  thee  with  the  Sons  of  Light 

Among  the  noble  hearts  of  those 
Who  perished  in  the  cause  of  Right. 

— William  Cullen  Bryant. 
(Ode  written  for  Lincoln's 
Funeral    Service,    held    in 
New  York  City.) 

THE   END 


■— , 


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EMERSON    HOUGH'S    NOVELS 


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THE  COVERED  WAGON 

An  epic  story  of  the  Great  West  from  which  the  fam  - 
ous  picture  was  made. 

THE  WAY  OF  A  MAN 

A  colorful  romance  of    the  pioneer  West  before   the 
Civil  War. 

THE  SAGEBRUSHER 

An  Eastern  girl  answers  a  matrimonial  ad.  and  goes  out 
West  in  the  hills  of  Montana  to  find  her  mate. 

THE  WAY  OUT 

A  romance  of  the  feud  districtof  the  Cumberland  country. 

THE  BROKEN  GATE 

A  story  of  broken  social  conventions  and  of  a  woman*  s 
determination  to  put  the  past  behind  her. 

THE  WAY  TO  THE  WEST 

Daniel  Boone,  Davy  Crockett  and  Kit  Carson  figure  in 
this  story  of  the  opening  of  the  West. 

HEART'S  DESIRE 

The  story  of  what  happens  when  the  railroad  came  to  ft 
little  settlement  in  the  far  West 

THE  PURCHASE  PRICE 

A  story  of  Kentucky  during  the  days  after  the  American 
Revolution. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,    Publishers,  NEW  YORK 


JACKSON  GREGORY'S  NOVELS 

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THE  EVERLASTING  WHISPER 

The  story  of  a  strong  man's  struggle  against  savage  nature  and  human* 
sty,  and  of  a  beautiful  girl's  regeneration  from  a  spoiled  child  of  wealth  into 
a  courageous  strong-willed  woman. 

DESERT  VALLEY 

A  college  professor  sets  out  with  his  daughter  to  find  gold.  They  mee* 
a  rancher  who  loses  his  heart,  and  become  involved  in  a  feud.  An  intensely 
exciting  story. 

MAN  TO  MAN 

Encircled  with  enemies,  distrusted,  Steve  defends  his  rights.  How  he 
won  his  game  and  the  girl  he  loved  is  the  story  filled  wtth  breathles* 
situations. 

THE  BELLS  OF  SAN  JUAN 

Dr.  Virginia  Page  is  forced  to  go  with  the  sheriff  on  a  night  journey 
into  the  strongholds  of  a  lawless  band.  Thrills  and  excitement  sweep  the 
<eader  along  to  the  end. 

JUDITH  OF  BLUE  LAKE  RANCH 

Judith  Sanford  part  owner  of  a  cattle  ranch  realizes  she  is  being  robbed 
by  her  foreman.  How,  with  the  help  of  Bud  Lee,  she  checkmates  Trevor's 
scheme  makes  fascinating  reading. 

THE  SHORT  CUT 

Wayne  is  suspected  of  killing  his  brother  after  a  violent  quarrel.  Finan- 
cial complications,  villains,  a  horse-race  and  beautiful  Wanda,  all  go  to  make 
up  a  thrilling  romance. 

THE  JOYOUS  TROUBLE  MAKER 

A  reporter  sets  up  housekeeping  close  to  Beatrice's  Ranch  much  to  hey 
chagrin.  There  is  "  another  man "  who  complicates  matters,  but  all  turns 
out  as  it  should  in  this  tale  of  romance  and  adventure. 

SIX  FEET  FOUR 

Beatrice  Waverly  is  robbed  of  $5,000  and  suspicion  fastens  upon  Buck 
rhornton,  but  she  soon  realizes  he  is  not  guilty.  Intensely  exciting,  here  is  « 
real  story  of  the  Great  Far  West. 

WOLF  BREED 

No  Luck  Drennan  had  grown  hard  through  loss  of  faith  in  men  he  had 
trusted.  A  woman  hater  and  sharp  of  tongue,  he  finds  a  match  in  Ygerne 
whose  clever  fencing  wins  the  admiration  and  love  of  the  "  Lone  Wolf." 

Grosset  &  Dunlap,         Publishers,         New  York 


FLORENCE   L.  BARCLAY'S 
NOVELS 


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THE  WHITE  LADIES  OF  WORCESTER 

A  novel  of  the  12th  Century.  The  heroine,  believing  she 
had  lost  her  lover,  enters  a  convent.  He  returns,  and  in- 
teresting developments  follow. 

THE  UPAS  TREE 

A  love  story  of  rare  charm.    It  dealt  with  a  successful 

author  and  his  wife. 

THROUGH  THE  POSTERN  GATE 

The  story  of  a  seven  day  courtship,  in  which  the  dis- 
crepancy in  ages  vanished  into  insignificance  before  the 
convincing  demonstration  of  abiding  love. 

THE  ROSARY 

The  story  of  a  young  artist  who  is  reputed  to  love  beauty 
above  all  else  in  the  world,  but  who,  when  blinded  through 
an  accident,  gains  life's  greatest  happiness.  A  rare  story 
of  the  great  passion  of  two  real  people  superbly  capable  of 
love,  its  sacrifices  and  its  exceeding  reward. 

THE  MISTRESS  OF  SHENSTONE 

The  lovely  young  Lady  Ingleby,  recently  widowed  by  the 
death  of  a  husband  who  never  understood  her,  meets  a  fine, 
clean  young  chap  who  is  ignorant  of  her  title  and  they  fall 
deeply  in  love  with  each  other.  When  he  learns  her  real 
identity  a  situation  of  singular  power  is  developed. 

THE  BROKEN  HALO 

The  story  of  a  young  man  whose  religious  belief  was 
shattered  in  childhood  and  restored  to  him  by  the  little 
white  lady,  many  years  older  than  himself,  to  whom  he  is 
passionately  devoted. 

THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  STAR 

The  story  of  a  young  missionary,  who,  about  to  start  for 
Africa,  marries  wealthy  Diana  Rivers,  in  order  to  help  her 
fulfill  the  conditions  of  her  uncle's  will,  and  how  they  finally 
come  to  love  each  other  and  are  reunited  after  experiences 
that  soften  and  purify. 

Grosset  &  Dunlap,        Publishers,         New  York 


PETER  B.  KYNE'S  NOVELS 

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THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

When  two  strong  men  clash  and  the  under-dog  has  Irish 
blood  in  his  veins — there's  a  tale  that  Kyne  can  tell !  And 
"  the  girl M  is  also  very  much  in  evidence. 

KINDRED  OF  THE  DUST 

Donald  McKay,  son  of  Hector  McKay,  millionaire  lum- 
ber king,  falls  in  love  with  "  Nan  of  the  Sawdust  Pile,"  a 
charming  girl  who  has  been  ostracized  by  her  townsfolk, 

THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

The  fight  of  the  Cardigans,  father  and  son,  to  hold  the 
Valley  of  the  Giants  against  treachery.  The  reader  finishes 
with  a  sense  of  having  lived  with  big  men  and  women  in  a 
big  country. 

CAPPY  RICKS 

The  story  of  old  Cappy  Ricks  and  of  Matt  Peasley,  the 
boy  he  tried  to  break  because  he  knew  the  acid  test  was 
good  for  his  soul. 

WEBSTER:   MANS  MAN 

In  a  little  Jim  Crow  Republic  in  Central  America,  a  man 
and  a  woman,  hailing  from  the  "  States,"  met  up  with  a 
revolution  and  for  a  while  adventures  and  excitement  came 
so  thick  and  fast  that  their  love  affair  had  to  wait  for  a  lull 
in  the  game. 

CAPTAIN  SCRAGGS 

This  sea  yarn  recounts  the  adventures  of  three  rapscal- 
lion sea-faring  men — a  Captain  Scraggs,  owner  of  the  green 
vegetable  freighter  Maggie,  Gibney  the  mate  and  McGuff 
ney  the  engineer. 

THE  LONG  CHANCE 

A  story  fresh  from  the  heart  of  the  West,  of  San  Pasqual, 
a  sun-baked  desert  town,  of  Harley  P.  Hennage,  the  best 
gambler,  the  best  and  worst  man  of  San  Pasqual  and  of 
jovely  Donna. 

Grosset  &  Dunlap,        Publishers,        New  York 


ETHEL    M.    DELL'S    NOVELS 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.     Ask  for  Grosset  &  Dunlap's  list 

CHARLES  REX 

The  struggle  against  a  hidden  secret  and  the  love  of  a 
strong  man  and  a  courageous  woman. 
THE  TOP  OF  THE  WORLD 

Tells  of  the  path  which  leads  at  last  to  the  "  top  of  the 
world/ '  which  it  is  given  to  few  seekers  to  find. 
THE  LAMP  IN  THE  DESERT 

Tells  of  the  lamp  of  love  that  continues  to  shine  through 
all  sorts  of  tribulations  to  final  happiness. 
GREATHEART 

The  story  of  a  cripple  whose  deformed  body  conceals 
a  noble  soul. 
THE  HUNDREDTH  CHANCE 

A  hero  who  worked  to  win  even  when  there  was  only 
'  a  hundredth  chance/' 
THE  SWINDLER 

The    story   of    a    "bad    man's"    soul    revealed    by  a 
woman' s    faith. 
THE  TIDAL  WAVE 

Tales  of  love  and  of  women  who  learned  to  know  the 
true  from  the  false. 
THE  SAFETY  CURTAIN 

A  very  vivid   love  story  of   India.     The  volume  also 
contains  four  other  long  stories  of  equal  interest. 

Grosset  &  Dunlap,  Publishers,         New  York 


JAMES  OLIVER  CURWOOD'S 

STORIES  OF  ADVENTURE 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.     Ask  for  Grosset  &  Bunlap's  list 

THE  COUNTRY  BEYOND 

THE  FLAMING  FOREST 

THE  VALLEY  OF  SILENT  MEN 

THE  RIVER'S  END 

THE  GOLDEN  SNARE 

NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

KAZAN 


BAREE,  SON  OF  KAZAN 

THE  COURAGE  OF  CAPTAIN  PLUM 

THE  DANGER  TRAIL 

THE  HUNTED  WOMAN 

THE  FLOWER  OF  THE  NORTH 

THE  GRIZZLY  KING 

ISOBEL 

THE  WOLF   HUNTERS 

THE  GOLD  HUNTERS 

THE  COURAGE  OF  MARGE  O'DOONE 

BACK  TO  GOD'S  COUNTRY 


Ask    for  Complete   free  list  of  G.   &   D.  Popular  Copyrighted  Fiction 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,    Publishers,  NEW  YORK 


ELFANOR  H.  PORTER'S  NOVELS 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.       Ask  for  Gresset  &  Dunlap's  list 


JUST  DAVID 

The  tale  of  a  loveable  boy  and  the  place  he  comes  to 
fill  in  the  hearts  of  the  gruff  farmer  folk  to  whose  care  he 

is  left. 

THE  ROAD  TO  UNDERSTANDING 

A  compelling  romance  of  love  and  marriage. 

OH,  MONEY  !  MONEY  ! 

Staniey  Fulton,  a  wealthy  bachelor,  to  test  the  disposi- 
tions of  his  relatives,  sends  them  each  a  check  for  $100,- 
000,  and  then  as  plain  John  Smith  comes  among  them  to 
watch  the  result  of  his  experiment. 

SIX  STAR  RANCH 

A  wholesome  story  of  a  club  of  six  girls  and  their  sum- 
mer on  Six  Star  Ranch. 

DAWN 

The  story  of  a  blind  boy  whose  courage  leads  him 
through  the  gulf  of  despair  into  a  final  victory  gained  by 
dedicating  his  life  to  the  service  of  blind  soldiers. 

ACROSS  THE  YEARS 

Short  stories  of  our  own  kind  and  of  our  own  people. 
Contains  some  of  the  best  writing  Mrs.  Porter  has  done. 

THE  TANGLED  THREADS 

In  these  stories  we  find  the  concentrated  charm  and 
tenderness  of  all  her  other  books. 

THE  TIE  THAT  BINDS 

W  I  — — ■ 

Intensely  human  stories  told  with  Mrs.  Porter's  won-( 
derful  talent  for  warm  and  vivid  character  drawing. 

Grosset  &  Dunlap,        Publishers,        New  York 

«—  i  .  ■  i  .  .  — ' — ■ —  ss 

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